Neverwinter Nights: The Search for Lesle Mere
by Iridaesin
Summary: No one ever talks about the Hero of Neverwinter that saved the city from the Wailing Death. So when Tebriah, seasoned adventurer and Knight-Captain, gets sent on a quest to find her, new and old faces abound from both campaigns. Join her on her last mission before retirement; finding a woman hidden in the past.
1. An Old Man's Pride

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>An Old Man's Pride<strong>_

Four years have passed since the Spirit Eater Incident, as it came to be called in Neverwinter.

Lord Nasher Alagondar considered the title while facing the window. Haborman, Hero, _Kalach-Cha_ –Tebriah made many names for herself in the course of her travels. She was scarcely a woman when Sir Nevalle and Grayson brought her into the throne room. Broken twigs hung from her hair and fresh bruises swelled the left side of her face. When she addressed him it was only after she spat a chip of tooth and bloodied bile into her palm.

The aging Lord laughed under his breath at the memory. Heroes came from all walks of life. They had in common a way of surprising others by being themselves, and disappointing them so much harder for that very same reason. Just like that, Lord Nasher's mirth turned to solemn contemplation.

He wasn't always dressed in Amnian silk and paraded behind high walls. Once, what felt like lifetimes ago, he was an adventurer scraping by on odd jobs and errands. Somewhere between then and now he'd become an old man, terrified of speaking his mind for fear that others would believe he'd lost it altogether. He was honest, once. He had honor. Now it was just him, a crown, and his pride.

Frantic knocking roused him from his thoughts.

"My Lord? My Lord, it's urgent!"

"Come in," he sighed. "No need to wake the whole castle."

A man-servant stumbled into the room. The ruler's eyebrows arched with interest at the woman holding a wand to his trembling shoulders.

"Took you long enough, my _Liege_. I was beginning to think you'd passed in your sleep."

"Ophala… I know you wouldn't visit unless the city was in flames, but it isn't as far as I can see." He looked at his cowering servant. "Am I to believe this is your way of paying a social visit? And would you please let the poor boy go?"

She tucked the wand into her sleeve and watched as the man quickly bowed and sped out the door.

"You have some explaining to do, Nasher." She sat on an ottoman. "I visited my quarters in the Cloak Tower only to find my wards defeated."

"Was anything stolen?"

"No." She pursed her lips. "Rather, something had been left for me to find." Ophala removed a sheet of cloth from a pouch on her belt. She carefully unfolded the fabric to reveal a master-crafted pendant of Neverwinter's symbol. The bleeding eye was pure gold, encrusted in garnet powder.

She watched realization pool across his face. Lord Nasher rarely allowed his true thoughts to show, and this was more telling than any confession. Her voice was clipped when she spoke to him next.

"You told me she was dead."

"I said she was _believed_ d–"

"Don't give me that!" She slammed her palms on the table. "Can you imagine the disaster if someone extracted a fraction of what she knows about our defenses?"

"You will not question me, Ophala."

"The Hells I won't!" She rose to her feet and held a finger at him. "I don't know what went on between the two of you twenty five years ago, but I know that if she chose to leave a message _now_ then she has some damned important things to say."

"She is a loyal servant of Neverwinter."

"It's been a quarter of a century. People change." She lifted the necklace. It twirled in the moonlight, shimmering like fresh blood. "Aribeth did."

"You will never mention that name to me again," he seethed. "She is _loyal_, Ophala… more loyal than I've ever been."

He lowered his head and turned his back on her in a gesture she found too familiar. Ophala shook her head at the husk of the man she once knew. She paused at the doorway.

"Most of us, I understand," she said. "But I will never understand how you can look Aarin in the eyes when speaking to him."

The door clicked shut. Many seconds passed before he mustered the strength to turn around and look at the pendant on his table. Visions of an elven paladin filled his mind.

Yes, Heroes had a way of disappointing others.

Themselves, most of all.


	2. Homecoming

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>Homecoming<strong>_

Tebriah took care not to step on any twigs near the outskirts of Crossroad Keep, where Daeghun had his new home. She spied on the elf through the foliage, tip-toeing around patches of sunlight.

He was oiling the Duskwood bow she'd brought him at their last Harvest Fair.

And then his ears twitched.

She swore under her breath.

"Are you friend or foe?" he asked from his spot.

"Neither." She walked into the glade. "Just family."

He stared at her for a time, with the faintest air of disbelief. Out of habit, Daeghun donned his trademark scowl, causing her to laugh. She dropped her pack in the grass and held up her hands.

"I'm unarmed if it makes you feel better."

He finally got his bearings. Daeghun scoffed at her barb, "_Kalach-Cha_ or not, you'll always be ten years too early to pose a threat to me."

"Of course, of course," she nodded. Tebriah sniffed the air. "Are you cooking something?"

"Lamb."

Her stomach growled. "Lamb sounds _really_ good, just throwing that out there."

"Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"Please and thank you!"

She followed him with every grace of a straggling pup, amused to find that some horrid artwork she'd made at Retta Starling's home as a child was now perched above the door. When she'd first made it Daeghun went to astounding efforts to keep it hidden or locked away; it's craftsmanship, as he'd once put it, was mortifying.

Granted, she thought, it's _way_ back against the wall, but she'd recognize garishly painted goose feathers anywhere.

Tebriah had been Daeghun's foster-daughter for years, but this was the first time she actually felt like she was coming _home. _

"You've built a fine house, I see." She paused to admire the handiwork. The wood used for the majority of the structure was common, but of a fine grain. And, as always, meticulously clean.

"Your friend Khelgar helped me with the bulk of it."

She blanched. It was difficult to imagine what the rowdy dwarf and stoic elf would talk about. It was harder to imagine Khelgar bearing with the silence Daeghun was so accustomed to falling into.

"He works hard," he continued. "He's skilled at… I believe the human phrase is 'keeping his nose to the grindstone'."

If Tebriah knew anything it was that Daeghun's compliments were hard earned. She smiled while setting the table, feeling content for the first time in a long while.

The elf placed cooked lamb onto their plates, along with a generous serving of diced potatoes and a rich smelling sauce. Tebriah muttered a quick word of thanks to Eldath, nearly choking when she spotted the symbol of Clangeddin Silverbeard carved into a wooden beam. Khelgar's handiwork just became a world more apparent.

The first bite nearly brought her to tears. Daeghun was not the finest cook in the Realms, but after weeks of eating unleavened bread, jerky, and tart berries, this was heaven to her tongue. They passed the meal in their standard silence; one out of habit, the other enamored with her food.

Tebriah opened her eyes to find Daeghun taking the plates to the sink. She rose to help him when he held a hand for pause.

"There is a stream east of here. You'll find some soap beneath a mossy rock. You've had a long journey. Wash up."

She nodded, too tired to question or complain. After having her first decent meal in months she was overcome by exhaustion. The stream's icy water was like a jolt of electricity through her senses. Tebriah sloughed the sweat and dirt off her skin as though her life depended on it.

Later when she got back home she was surprised to find that her foster-father already put her belongings in corner. A note on the table read: _Gone to market. Your room is upstairs._

Her "room" was an exact replica of what it was in West Harbor. She stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. Even the scent of lavender was there, along with a fresh bundle drying from the ceiling. She sat on the bed, then curled on top of the covers, drowning in nostalgia.

"Four years," she mouthed, overwhelmed by the thought. And in that thought she was quickly ambushed by exhaustion. The next time Tebriah opened her eyes, it was dawn.


	3. The First Tiding

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>The First Tiding<br>**_

It was not long after the battle with the King of Shadows that a certain wizard decided he deserved his own tower –a bigger, more elaborate, and expensive tower than the one currently belonging to Startear.

And honestly, what mage calls themselves _Startear_? He's a charlatan on those grounds alone, and it should have been _his_ tower to begin with.

Suffice to say that after enough bickering persuasion, Sand eventually got his wish. His tower was situated directly above Crossroad Keep's library, and could be reached by a spiraling stairwell that transmuted into a slide for anyone not expressly invited.

It was from within his tower that he heard soft, distinct chiming emanating from his divining pool. Shortly after his triumphant return he made a point to set wards across the entirety of the Keep's lands. This pool was tied directly to them. No one came or went without his knowledge –no one of importance, anyway. So when he heard that silvery ringing he knew that this guest could only be… prominent.

"Well, _well_… what do we have here?" He hovered over the water, dropping a pinch of malachite powder onto its surface.

He blinked at what it showed him –a back he deemed all too familiar from the numerous occasions he'd watched it speed off into battle.

Tebriah had returned.


	4. A Lantanese Greeting

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>A Lantanese Greeting<br>**_

Sand considered casting a glyph on his robes in the event Khelgar decided to grab the collar after he announced his news. The guards posted at the doors to the reception hall flapped their mouths as he approached.

"Master Sand I–"

"–yes, yes, I'll hear your drivel later. I'm afraid I have some rather pressing news for our dear footstool in the…" He stopped in his tracks. He didn't need to make any assessment to sense the sheer amount of magical power in the room. Curiously, it came from a lavishly robed figure barely half an inch taller than the dwarf he came to find. "_Sorcerer_," he growled. "Khelgar, what is this?"

Curiously, the dwarf almost looked relieved upon his approach, something Sand found deeply troubling. He waved his hand towards their petite guest, clearly struggling towards an explanation.

"This gnome here says he has some sort of news for the Knight-Captain, the lass, though. Says he was sent by someone from the Cloak Tower in Neverwinter."

Sand's eyebrows lifted at the name. "Do you have a name, then? Or are we to call you 'gnome'?"

Beneath the foppish hat Sand was surprised to find that their guest wasn't as odd-looking as his cousins. In fact, he had a slim face that could be considered handsome by most. There was an analytical gleam to his eyes that reminded him of his time among other wizards. Sand was stunned for no other reason than this sorcerer seemed of a rational bent.

"I am Boddyknock Glinckle, of Lantan. And yes, I am a sorcerer. Am I correct in presuming you are Sand?"

The elf replied with a long and drawn out, "_Yes_." He blinked at the name. "I've heard of you from somewhere…"

Then it happened; a knowing smile spread on Boddyknock's face, with the obvious intention to not explain it. This riled the elf in ways he couldn't even explain.

"Why are you here, Sand?" asked Khelgar, cutting off what would have been a brilliant rant.

"Ah, to tell–"

"–you that the Knight-Captain is currently at her step-father's house," the gnome cut in. He offered the two of them a deep bow. "Thank you for your time. Now if you'd please excuse me." Boddyknock pulled a delicate wand out from his sleeve. First came a flash.

And then he was gone.

Sand pursed his lips, completely irate. "I propose a new edict for the Keep, Khelgar."

"And what would that be?"

"Sorcerers are to be turned away at the door."

The dwarf huffed, walking past him. "That won't help any."

"And why not?"

He motioned to the spot where the gnome stood seconds before. "They don't use them."


	5. Lesle of Merdelain

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>Lesle of Merdelain<br>**_

Tebriah was eating stew for breakfast when lightning flashed before her eyes. A moment later she saw a gnome standing in the kitchen.

She dropped her spoon into the bowl.

"May I help you…?"

This gnome surveyed their surroundings before setting his eyes on her. He seemed overcome by surprise at first, squinting at her face.

"I'm beginning to see why you were asked for."

Tebriah picked up her fallen spoon and began eating again. "Pull up a chair and tell me your story. I'm too hungry to give you a formal sit down at the moment."

"A logical reason," he approved. "I am Boddyknock Glinckle. And I was sent by a mutual acquaintance of ours to request your aid in a… sensitive matter."

She waved her spoon at him for pause. Tebriah swallowed. "Sorry, mutual friend?"

He twined his fingers together, studying her carefully. "Well, I was told you could be trusted, provided you share the information with no one. I was sent by Ophala Chelderstorn."

"Ah… so it's a job for Nasher."

"No." Ferocity flashed behind his eyes for a brief instant. "Madam Ophala made it quite clear that Lord Nasher knows nothing about this meeting. And he is _not_ to find out."

This sparked her interest. Tebriah lifted the bowl to her lips and polished off her breakfast in several large gulps. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and pushed her dish off to the side.

"Okay, let's hear it. I didn't even know it was possible to keep a secret from Nasher."

At this, Boddyknock smirked. "Curiously, your assignment is to search for a secret in the one place Lord Nasher refuses to look."

"Which is?"

"The past. In this case, a Hero of Neverwinter –your predecessor."

"Why does Ophala want to find this 'Hero'?"

"Because she found Ophala first." He proceeded to explain that there was an object left in Ophala's lab –something only in the possession of that Hero. He leaned forward, suddenly serious. "Have you never found it odd? Poems and songs have been written about you before your fame even came to fruition. It was said that Lord Nasher reduced emphasis on the old Hero in passing, but reduction is one thing, this is…"

"Erasing." Tebriah put a hand on her chin. "Now that you mention it, that is… odd." The pieces began to fall together. "So Ophala doesn't want Nasher to find out because–"

"–he was the one trying hardest to keep matters in the dark. Yes." The gnome nodded solemnly. "Madam Ophala spoke very highly of you. She said that if there was any doubt then she'd be willing to pay handsomely for your services in this matter."

Tebriah shook her head. "She ought to know me better by now. Of course I'll help. Though I can't imagine your silence was easily bought."

"On the contrary, I have been waiting for this request for nearly twenty years. Everything I do with regards to this is free of charge."

This statement bought her attention more than anything else spoken in their conversation. Tebriah hung an arm over the back of her chair, staring at him.

"Why?"

"Because I was one of her companions –Boddyknock Glinckle, sorcerer, mercenary, and friend," he smiled, lowering his eyes. "I have heard of you, Tebriah. You've experienced loss firsthand, and the wretched feeling that comes from wondering after the fate of your friends. I am not belittling your experience when I say this, but two months pales against two decades. I wish to put this story behind us all."

Tebriah remembered her time as a Spirit-Eater better than she would have liked. The gnawing emptiness helped distract her from her thoughts then. It was a bizarre form of relief compared to worrying and wondering if the King of Shadows was really dead, or inventing nightmares of how her friends died in the battle. She couldn't believe she'd put up with it for as long as she had –she was afraid to fathom what Boddyknock had been feeling all this time.

"This Hero… does she have a name?"

"Lesle Mere."

"Mere?!"

"It is precisely what you think," he answered. "Lesle of Merdelain. She spoke little of her time before Neverwinter, but I do know that she wasn't from West Harbor. She was further into the swamp, in the shadow of the Sword Mountains."

"So right along the High Road then?"

"Yes. It was a dangerous place to be in, especially for the time."

They turned towards the doorway then, spotting the return of Daeghun. The wood elf was carrying a bundle of firewood. He eyed their guest first.

"Who are you?"

"Boddyknock Glinckle. Pleasure," he bowed.

Daeghun reciprocated with a slight tilt of his head.

"Father, while you were in West Harbor, have you ever heard of a woman called Lesle Mere?"

"In passing." He set the wood by the fireplace. "A fine ranger from what I gathered. She kept a fair stretch of the High Road free of orcs. Why do you ask?"

Tebriah cast a questioning look at Boddyknock, who nodded at the information. "Curiosity. The name came up is all."

"I see. Will your friend be staying for dinner?"

Again, she looked at the gnome, who seemed anxious at best. "No. We've stayed long enough. I have some important business to get to."

"Leaving already?" He turned around, appearing a bit crestfallen. "I see. Remember to maintain your equipment on your travels."

Tebriah slung her pack over her shoulder, casting her foster-father a smile that could melt the snow. "I'll miss you too."


	6. A Great Magician

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>A Great Magician<br>**_

Tebriah was exotic by human standards. She had naturally tan skin; it practically glowed beneath the sun. Her hair was also a rich, almost velvety chocolate with the occasional red strand adding depth to its sheen. Most of all it was her eyes, with their pale, dewy green that suggested elven parentage at some point in her family history. Boddyknock could see why she made a successful bard –with such an appearance and even a little skill, an audience was sure to follow.

"So where are we headed first?" she asked, squinting at the road. "I get the feeling that this is going to be a long journey."

"To the Neverwinter Penitentiary."

She choked on her tongue, giving the gnome a strange and wary look. "You think she's a convict?"

"No. Please allow me to explain." He pushed up the brim of his hat. "While Lesle was never fond of the law she tried to keep within its boundaries whenever possible. I think the most logical course of action would be to gather other companions, like myself, and see what information we can glean together what one might overlook alone."

"How many companions are there?"

"Six, including myself. Though there are only five of us left alive I'm afraid." The gnome slowed his pace, pondering his memory. "Our search will take us to Neverwinter, the Spine of the World, Athkatla, and Evereska."

Tebriah's eyes bulged at the names. "That's quite a trek. And Evereska will be closed to non-elves."

"Well then." His eyes lit up with a mischievous glow. "I did say Lesle _tried_ to keep within the law… but I never said we never went beyond those lines."

"Typical," she laughed. "You really were adventurers."

"By circumstance, not by choice, I assure you." He held out an arm for pause, pointing at a merchant house on the road. "I say some horses would make our trip easier."

Tebriah reached for her coin pouch, but when she looked up the gnome was already negotiating with the keeper. Judging by the way the man shook his head he refused to sell the animals, but then the gnome dropped several gold coins into his hands. More currency poured from the pouch that was much too small to contain it, and eventually the keeper rushed to hand him the reins of two fine stallions.

She watched as Boddyknock stepped on a bucket, and then a fence post, to mount one of them. He approached her with the second horse in tow.

"My lady," he smiled.

Tebriah took the reins, dumbfounded. "Thank you… but how did you move so quickly?"

At this Boddyknock held a finger to his lips and winked.

"A good magician never reveals his secrets." He turned around. "And a great one never gives you the chance to find out."


	7. At The Gates of Neverwinter

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>At the Gates of Neverwinter<br>**_

It took an hour to get to Neverwinter by horseback. Its elegant towers were steadfast in the wind, even as banners slapped wildly off the ramparts. The sky was ablaze with an orange horizon and sun-soaked clouds.

One look at Boddyknock told her that he wasn't as relieved to be here as she was. His eyes were narrowed at their destination, and his jaw was set firmly in place.

"You don't seem to be happy to be here," she noted.

"Neverwinter was a very different place in my memories." There was a far off look in his eyes, as though he was gazing into the past itself. "I still smell the stench of burning, rotten flesh when I see this place. I understand it is merely psychological… but my mind has proven more powerful than my reasoning in this matter."

"You mean the plague." Tebriah heard maybe two words about the first Hero of Neverwinter while growing up in West Harbor, and even less after she arrived in the city itself. Months would pass before she heard a semi-complete version from a bard in a rundown pub in the back alleys, but there was no way of telling how much fact was in the fiction.

"Yes," said Boddyknock. "The Wailing Death. I can guarantee that no cleric has ever faced such a disease before it appeared, or after it was cured."

"I can't imagine what that would be like."

"Picture ember and thick smoke rising from behind those walls, Tebriah. And then the reek of putrid flesh and excrement barreling at your nose like a cloud every time you breathed. Imagine the City of Skilled-Hands crippled by martial law, whose guards turned on its starving citizens who insisted the nobility had a cure they were willing to kill to obtain." He closed his eyes. "I am a man of reason… but I was certain that Neverwinter had gone to the Nine Hells."

She didn't know what to say to that.

When Tebriah arrived to Neverwinter her biggest worry were the Githyanki hot on her tail. The city came as a place of respite. It was expansive and wondrous to her… but she also grew up in a swamp. She began to want to find this Lesle Mere of her own volition –not just because it was on the request of a friend.

What was she thinking? Why did she walk into a place with a plague that had no guaranteed cure? What was it like to grow up in the Mere back then?

"I'm so curious now," she muttered to herself.

"What was that?"

"Oh." She looked down quickly. "Nothing important. So what's the name of this companion we're out to find?"

Boddyknock arched his brow. "When you meet him act like you've heard all about his exploits –else I'm sure he'd be sorely offended."

"Big ego, eh?"

"Bigger than him, at any rate," the gnome snorted. "Tomi Undergallows. And whatever your do, don't let him rope you into calling him 'Grin'."


	8. The Shocking Reunion

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>The Shocking Reunion<br>**_

"Can I assume that we're going to stay here for the night?" she asked, hitching her horse to the City Watch post. Tebriah offered a hand to Boddyknock, who took it gratefully.

"Why, might I ask?"

She carefully helped him off the animal, tying its reins beside hers. "Well," she started, "after we get Tomi I figure we'd need to discuss this entire quest; prioritize what we know. And if we're going to the Spine of the World then we're in sore need of some supplies."

"And where would we stay?"

Tebriah pointed down the Dolphin Bridge. "My uncle owns an inn in the Docks. After certain… events I can assure you it has wards enough to put a dungeon to shame."

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. "The endurance of Harbormen extends to their homes."

"You have _no_ idea." Tebriah pushed the doors open. Several members of the City Watch turned to look at her, then quickly faced away. She raised an eyebrow at the lack of reception, wondering if she'd really changed that much in a few years.

Boddyknock followed close behind while she navigated the halls, seeing that little had changed in the way of decoration or structure. Even more familiar was the sound of Captain Brelaina and Marshal Cormick arguing… as usual. Tebriah failed to stifle a smile, and opened the door to the office without ceremony.

"I told you they need harsher sentences if–"

The Captain raised a hand for him to pause, staring at their new guest. Her brown eyes lit up with light. "It's been a long time since I've seen a Harborman walk through those doors."

Cormick whirled around. "Tebriah!"

Brelaina slapped his knuckles with a ruler.

"…I mean, Knight-Captain."

"I see some things never cha–" the sentence fell apart. Brelain stood from behind her desk, revealing a very round mid-section. Boddyknock coughed, causing Tebriah to snap back to attention. She picked up her hanging jaw and looked between Cormick and Brelaina… _carefully_ this time.

"Let me guess… a heated argument gave way to a fit of passion?"

The two of them had the decency to redden at her comment –probably because it was true. The Knight-Captain snorted, covering her mouth with a fist. "Sorry, I… I mean congratulations."

"Glad to know you still have the grace of a Harborman," Cormick snickered. "Let's hope that wasn't the tactic you used on Torio Claven during your Trial."

"Hey, I _won_, in case you forgot in your old age."

"How may we help you, Knight-Captain?" Brelaina cut in, resting her hand over Cormick's. "You don't seem quite dressed for a social call."

"I need someone to accompany me on my newest adventure."

"I'm afraid you won't find any mercenaries here," said Brelaina.

"It's not a mercenary I'm looking for."

"Oh?"

"It's a convict."

Their eyes bulged at her request. Tebriah raised her palms. "He's crucial. I'm willing to pay the cost of whatever he stole or damaged if it would help."

They exchanged apprehensive glances.

"Who is it you're seeking exactly?"

"Tomi Undergallows."

Brelaina slid a hand down her face. "What business could you possibly have with that damned halfling?"

"Hmm… looks like his reputation finally preceded him," Boddyknock mused.

"It's a personal matter. I need his help to find something that was lost."

Cormick folded his arms across his chest. "Well, technically we can't arrest him permanently. He helped rebuild the City –and its criminal underbelly– after it was destroyed by Luskan. For that he has some measure of diplomatic immunity bestowed by Lord Nasher himself."

"And he has pushed it to its utmost _limits_," Brelaina scowled. "The council has been trying to revoke his rights for over a decade, but it was sworn under the name of Tyr, so it's quite binding."

"Isn't that even more of a reason for me to take him off your hands?" Tebriah asked.

"Forgive me for saying this," Cormick sighed, "But I don't even you can handle him, Knight-Captain."

"_Ahem_." Everyone looked at the gnome in the room. "You could say I was a former keeper of his. I assure you that I have means of… keeping him in line."

"Are they in line with our laws?" Brelaina asked.

"Completely and absolutely," he affirmed.

"That settles it then. Would you like him escorted to the Sunken Flagon or to fetch him yourselves?"

Tebriah looked to Boddyknock. The gnome shook his head. "He'd run off as soon as he leaves. It's best we make the trip."

"You heard the gnome. We want all the honors."

Cormick wasted no time in handing her a leather-bound scroll. "Take him with our blessings then. I'll even treat you to a few pints if you leave him somewhere in the Great Sea."

On the surface she laughed, but inwardly Tebriah wondered if she had finally bitten off more than she could chew.

She and Boddyknock left for the Penitentiary in relative silence, bracing themselves for their oncoming acquisition. They turned into the back alleys until reaching the area beside the warehouse she raided many years ago. There were several members of the City Watch patrolling the building, along with a few that looked to be elites directly from Castle Never.

"State your business."

"I have a missive to acquire a convict," Tebriah announced. "I'll have him earn his freedom through some labor."

The man skimmed over the contents. When he reached the bottom a relieved smile broke across his face. He clasped her hands in his, shaking them fervently.

"You're an angel of mercy, my lady." He sped off inside. She and Boddyknock looked at each other, uncertain if they should follow. After a minute had passed they heard the sound of distant commotion and some vile expletives being thrown down the halls.

Three guards appeared, holding a squirming halfling. He kicked one in the jaw before being thrown onto the dirt.

"You're free you little gutter snipe! The lady owns your arse until she says otherwise."

Another one of the guards tore a binding off the halfling's mouth. He yelped when it was removed.

"Bloody bastards. Someday I'll get the lot of them back for this." He shook his fist at the door.

"Um… Tomi?"

He looked around, noticing Tebriah for the first time. His expression changed instantly. His face was somewhat ruddy, but not unpleasant to look at. And he had a crooked smile that could only be called… roguish.

"Why _hullo_ there my fair, _fair_ lady."

Boddyknock stepped from behind her. "Well met again, Tomi."

The halfling blinked, suddenly disgusted. "Aww no. Sorry, lady, but if this bloke's around I'm afraid our business is over. I'll repay the favor if you ever need an Undergallow to tousle your sheets, ya?" He waved goodbye, turning down the street.

Boddyknock, unfazed, lifted a finger and shot a bolt of lightning at him. Tomi was promptly knocked prone.

"Boddyknock!" she gasped. "I thought you said you had ways of controlling him _within_ the law."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Tebriah." He blew off the tip of his finger. "He just received a bit of a shock."


	9. What of the Future?

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>What of the Future?<br>**_

They found a tarp and rolled Tomi up inside.

Tebriah, despite being a bard, was strong for a woman. She spent more time fighting with her flail than singing songs behind the lines. She carried herself like a warrior –she'd been an eldritch knight long enough to know she earned it.

Citizens gave them peculiar looks on their way back to the Sunken Flagon. When they arrived it made her heart feel glad at the sight of booming business. She slung the Tomi-tarp over her shoulder and sneaked through the crowd of the main room, wondering if Duncan changed the lock on her old suite.

She fumbled through her pocket until finding the copper key. Much to her relief, it worked.

Boddyknock seemed very accustomed to silence. In some ways he reveled in it. The gnome spent the better part of his time paying careful observation to the world around him. Tebriah wondered if he was always this way.

"I can feel the enchantments you spoke of. They aren't the finest, but no second-rate mage can penetrate these defenses."

"I'm glad you approve." She dropped Tomi onto her bed. "Do whatever it takes to keep him here while I greet my uncle and explain the situation." She paused at the doorway. "Oh, and do you mind if I went to see Ophala myself?"

"That would be very unwise." Boddyknock shook his head. "When I went to Crossroad Keep I thought to find you through your friend Khelgar. It was the wizard Sand that came to tell of your arrival. I had a scrying enchantment that enabled me to glean the information from him. I strongly suspect that they came to Daeghun's home shortly after we left."

"So?"

"So, Tebriah, they would ask where you went, and after they received an unsatisfactory answer they would ask what you or I mentioned just prior to leaving."

Tebriah thought for a moment. She sighed heavily, "Lesle Mere."

Boddyknock nodded at her deduction. "Your friends are in the direct service of Neverwinter. And from my observations they seem to be very loyal to you. Their next logical course of action would be to ask the sources at their disposal of your whereabouts and mission."

She groaned, "I'm an idiot."

He smiled reassuringly. "The damage was minor, I assure you. We merely have a limited time of how long we can stay in Neverwinter. Once we're beyond its walls Lord Nasher would have to go to extraordinary means to stop us. He's far too prudent to waste his resources in such a manner."

"It almost sounds like we're committing treason."

"By some definitions, we are."

The blood drained from her face as she walked down the hall and into the great room. Much of the crowd departed –she assumed it was the night patrol ready to begin their shift. Across the room she heard the familiar swearing of her uncle.

"Damned slobs, can't pick up their own tankards after they spill them… wine is all sticky on the floor… who knifed my counter?"

"Need some help, Uncle?"

"I'm not anybody's…" he turned around. "_Tebriah_!" He threw his arms around her. She cringed at the stench of hard liquor on his clothes. Duncan stepped back, holding her by the shoulders. "By the Gods you've grown. I was beginning to think you forgot all about old Uncle Duncan."

"You? Never!" she grinned. "I've missed you like you wouldn't believe."

"You're all flattery." He tucked an errant strand of hair behind one of her ears. "Now go on, I want to hear all about your adventures. And please tell me you found a decent bard on your travels. Since you left I've had nothing but charlatans in my establishment."

"I'm afraid not," she chuckled. "And sadly I can't stay for more than a day."

His expression sank. Duncan was handsome by many standards, but when he sulked he looked like a pup that just lost its mother. It tugged at her heartstrings as few things did. "But… _why_? You're gone for months or a year at a time. I miss my little lass."

She squeezed her eyes shut, overcome by guilt. "I'm sorry. I promise after this mission I'll stay with you for a whole month."

"At the least."

"With the ability to go off for a few days."

"Only with a chaperone."

"I can't believe we're bartering over my time."

He threw his rag onto the bar. "Well it's a damned valuable thing isn't it? Your own uncle can't afford to see his niece anymore while she's off saving the Realms."

She reached out and hugged him tightly. "I'm really, really, _really_ sorry Uncle. Just this one last quest. Then I…" she stopped.

Tebriah's expression went serious. Duncan was used to seeing her brush everything off like water, so this came to him with some alarm.

"What is it, lass?"

"…I really do think that after this, I'm done."

That was the last thing Duncan expected to ever come out of her mouth. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a chair in front of the fire. A moment later he returned with two cups of mulled wine.

"But you _live_ for adventure, lass," he said quietly. "You took to it like a fish to water. Now what brought this on?"

She put a hand around her glass, shrugging. "I've just changed, I guess. A few odd jobs here, an occasional treasure hunt there. One day I just asked myself what I was doing. I don't need the money. I'm good for a few generations. Fame, after a point, is troublesome. Some of my companions are dead, and my other friends have moved on to do something meaningful with their lives." She looked at her reflection in her drink. "I just feel empty now… like I've been left behind."

Duncan leaned over and placed his hand over hers. "I'd say you're just walking way ahead of everybody else." He slunk back in his chair. "But I suppose everyone reaches a point in their lives when they just want to settle down. If Esmerelle did then everyone will eventually."

She raised her head. "I thought my mother stopped adventuring because she had me?"

"Is that what you thought?" he wondered, surprised. "No, Tebriah. Esmerelle told me this one or two years before you came around. She was quite jaded, to the point where it was almost painful to watch. It was as if all the joy she had for life was sucked out of her."

"What happened that made her that way?"

"I don't know." He looked at the ceiling. "Even if I asked I knew she wouldn't tell me. She was the sort of woman that kept her own council on everything. It wasn't like she intended to keep secrets from people, that was just who she was." Duncan turned to her and smiled. "But then this chubby babe came into the world and she was all smiles again. I wish you could have known just how much she loved you, Tebriah. You were her everything from the minute you were born."

She blushed up to her ears. "Thanks Uncle."

"So, have you decided what you're going to do after you're done adventuring?"

"I don't know. I was thinking, if it's alright, that I could stay with you, and maybe help around the Flagon."

He stroked his chin. "I'd be happy to have you, lass. But the Flagon just seems a bit… small for you. You always have Crossroad Keep."

She laughed, "I'm not exactly sovereign material, Uncle. Sooner or later I'd be knocked from the post for following my heart over the law."

Duncan tousled her hair. "Then give that heart a good listen for a while. I'm sure it'll lead you to the right place to set some roots."

She smiled bashfully. "Thank you. You're the best."

"And don't you ever forget it!"

The distinct boom of thunder could be heard down the Flagon's halls. Tebriah instantly remembered what she came here to do.

"Ah… by the way… that sound you just heard was a part of my quest."

He rested his head against the wall, sighing heavily. "Just tell me how many freeloaders to have supper for and I'll bring it to you later."

Tebriah rushed over and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Uncle."

He slapped her bottom with his towel, shaking his head as she left. Duncan acted like he was irritated by the work, but he did it while humming through an ill-repressed smile.


	10. Their Course of Action

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Their Course of Action<em>**

Tebriah found Tomi tied to the posts of her bed.

"If ya wanted to play this kinda game then all you had to do was ask, m'lady." He glared at Boddyknock, inspecting the cuffs of his robe. "I don't do sharing."

Her eyebrows knit together in frustration. Tebriah dragged a chair from the fire and set it as close to the bed as she dared.

"Tomi," she began gently, "I know these circumstances aren't the finest, but please listen to me seriously for just a moment. You don't have to stay on with us permanently, just answer a few questions to the best of your abilities."

"Truthfully, and the whole truth of it," Boddyknock stressed.

The halfling bit the inside of his cheek. "Alright. What d'ya wanna know?"

She pressed her palm to her chest. "My name is Tebriah. I've been tasked with finding a woman called Lesle Mere."

Several emotions flashed across his face. There was joy, anger, distress, and loss. They ended in a pained look in his eyes and the sharp down-turned corners of a frown.

"Give it up. I haven't heard from her in decades. Probably killed off."

"By whom?"

"Nasher, probably." He looked away from her. "Things got tense for a few years. Then they exploded out of control. Last time I saw her she was running away with castle guards on her heels. If Nasher couldn't keep her he didn't want anyone else to either."

Tebriah looked at Boddyknock, who had waned considerably at this news.

"You were there when she ran off?"

"Aye. Tripped two guards until I got held off by a few others. Got thrown in a cell for about a day before I cracked the lock and sped off."

"Tomi…" Tebriah leaned forward. "Not long ago there was some proof that Lesle was still alive."

"Probably a sick forgery."

Boddyknock came forward. He slid his hand into a breast pocket, producing an amulet with Neverwinter's insignia. It shimmered beautifully in the firelight, and had the eerie effect of appearing as though it was covered in fresh blood.

"You know that she would never part with this under normal circumstances."

Tomi looked as though all the air and strength in his body left him. Tebriah cut his bindings. The halfling sat up and caught the pendant in his hands, rubbing his fingers over its surface.

"I don't get it," he muttered. "If she was alive then she would have kept in touch, I _know_ it."

"Unless…" Boddyknock mused.

"What?"

"She couldn't."

"You mean like she's locked up?"

"It's the only circumstance I can think of her parting with this willingly."

Tomi spent another minute examining the necklace, squeezing it tightly in his fist. "How do you plan to find her?"

"Does that mean you're in?" Tebriah asked.

"You're damned sure I am."

"We're planning on finding her other surviving companions. Our next destination is the Spine of the World."

Tomi narrowed his eyes at the gnome. "Daelan? Ya do remember he's a nomad?"

"He has established a semi-permanent residence near Klauth's old lair."

"I'm sorry… Klauth?" asked Tebriah.

"Red dragon we killed off," Tomi waved his hand dismissively. "Why him, why not the others?"

"From the Spine we'll travel by ship down the Mirar River."

Tomi raised a finger. "One problem, 'Knock. We need to go through Luskan to get to free water. And in case you've forgotten the last time we blew through there we killed off a couple o' High Captains and half the Host Tower."

"You're not the only one with ties to the shadows, Tomi. I've already made arrangements that will enable us to pass freely."

He blinked. A broad grin spread over his face. "Looks like I had some influence on ya after all. Never thought I'd say this, but you made me proud you did!"

The gnome cleared his throat, but couldn't hide the pink in his cheeks. "From there we go to Athkatla and enlist Sharwyn's aid. For the past few years she seems to have settled for performing in the Amnian Court."

"Then that leaves Linu."

Both men tensed at the mention. "You understand why I wanted to find her last."

"Lest she sink our ship in her sleep, you mean?"

Boddyknock moved to his small pouch and extracted a map of Faerun. He spread it across the bed.

"From Athkatla we travel back up along the Sword Coast and turn into the Winding Water. We'll have to pass through the Troll Claws, the Marsh of Chelimber, and a small patch of the Forgotten Forest, but it will set us right in the hills of Evereska. And there we will set a base of operations until we know our next course of action."

Tebriah inspected the route for a long moment. "Seems like most of the trip will be made by sea. I can't say I've ever been down the Winding Water, but by the look of it we'll need a skilled captain to get through the valley."

"That has already been taken care of."

"Oh?"

Boddyknock smiled smugly to himself. "Our captain has already agreed to the entire journey."

"Who?"

"Vengaul Bloodsail."


	11. Pendant on a Heartstring

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><strong><em>Pendant on a Heartstring<em>**

Duncan was very understanding whenever her adventures came up in conversation. He also seemed to know exactly what to do to support her through them. When Tebriah woke the next morning she found that, in addition to breakfast, he had put together a bundle of smoked, salted, and dried food for the journey.

It occurred to her that he did this long before she could be considered an experienced adventurer. It amazed her that he often knew what she needed before it ever crossed her mind. Now Tebriah wondered if it was his own experience that taught him this habit, or if it was perhaps her mother's influence.

Regardless, when she picked up her belongings and the care package so lovingly set out for her, she made sure to stop by the kitchen, where Duncan was passed out over the counter. Tebriah stoked the fire in the stove and set a blanket over his shoulders, leaving a small pouch of gold beside his hand. It felt cowardly, leaving him without the chance to say goodbye. And this small act of kindness did little to quell her guilt about it. Before Daeghun began trying to act like a father Duncan had been her family.

Tebriah owed her uncle a debt she felt she could never repay. She resolved to spend as much time with him as he wanted when she returned. The bard paused at a water basin and muttered a quick word to Eldath, praying for his safety until she saw him again.

Boddyknock was waiting for her outside the Flagon. The gnome quietly pointed towards the Merchant Quarter. They would grab some supplies from the street vendors and leave before the sun rose above the horizon.

The merchants had scarcely put out their wares when she pointed to several items and asked to buy them.

She found fur lined cloaks, pick axes, rope, stakes, bandages, and medicine for the trip. All of it slid in her bag of holding.

The bard glanced down the street to find Boddyknock finishing his shopping, stocking up largely on minor spell scrolls, blankets, and some peculiar looking rocks. She chalked those last items to his being a gnome –they collected the strangest things, if Grobnar had been any indication (a spring-mounted cod-piece?).

She looked around, but was unable to find their third member.

"Where's Tomi?"

The sorcerer didn't seem nearly as concerned as she was. "He said he'd return to find us in the morning."

"It's morning."

"Then he'll come."

"He's a _rogue_."

Though she couldn't see his face she knew that he was smiling. "A logical assumption –one I would normally agree with. But Tomi won't cross his word, at least not with this quest."

"What makes you say that?"

He bought two sweet rolls, handing one to her, and then motioned to a nearby bench.

"Lesle was unusual for a ranger. She had a lust for knowledge and devoured any book we came across. Several times we had to drag her from some ancient tomb or library on account of a horde of undead on our trail." He turned white at his own memories, nibbling on his sweet. "Because of this she had an odd assortment of skills, such as lock picking, trap-work… and Tomi was also the first of us companions."

Tebriah swallowed the chuck of bread that was in her mouth, thinking it over.

"They were close."

"Quite." The gnome polished off his pastry, licking his fingers clean of glaze. "You've already seen how he approached you –he does that for just about every woman he meets. Lesle was no exception, of course, but soon he saw her as something of a little sister. They could spend hours fabricating heists and kept score of how many traps they spotted. He'd be hard pressed to admit it, but Tomi was the most protective of her."

"He must have been devastated."

"Hmm… it's hard to say." He thought on it. "As evidenced by our quest, everyone parted ways not long after she disappeared. Tomi visited Neverwinter several times only to cause trouble, giving Lord Nasher quite the headache. I would assume it was a means of getting back at him."

"That sounds awfully childish."

"Therefore it's very 'Tomi'." He gazed at the clouds above their heads, in dazzling shades of pink and cotton. "It disturbs me greatly, what he told us last night. In my mind she simply left without a word."

"Why would someone that important to all of you do that? Wasn't she your friend?"

"You misunderstand me, Tebriah. That was simply her way. Normally she would announce her comings and goings, but it wasn't entirely uncommon for her to disappear for a night or two. Lesle never thought much of it."

"Did she at least tell you where she was when she got back?"

"We'd ask," he affirmed, "but her answers were very vague. What it came down to was that she enjoyed her solitude… except that the last time she went off, she didn't return. And the knowledge that Lord Nasher had tried to hunt her down disturbs me greatly."

"Well you did say their relationship was tense."

"Tense, yes," he agreed. "But I never considered that it had come to a breaking point."

"…Boddyknock?"

"Yes?"

Tebriah leaned forward, unable to resist. "That pendant that you gave to Tomi last night… what's its significance in all this?"

The gnome regarded her silently. Tebriah could see him debating whether or not he should say anything on the matter –and if yes, then how much.

"That necklace's original owner was the Lady Aribeth de'Tylmarande."

"The Betrayer?"

He lowered his palm, implying that she ought to do the same with her voice. "It had magic, once –the ability to track its wearer. When she discovered this Lady Aribeth gave her pendant to Lesle. This was shortly before we left for Luskan… before the Betrayal."

"Why was it so important to her?"

Boddyknock's eyebrows knit together. His lips went off to the side in a pensive purse. "It is unclear to me exactly how far back their relationship goes, but they knew one another from before the Wailing Death. Though bearing little in the ways of physical resemblance, they were kindred spirits. You could see much of one within the other."

"So she kept it as a memento, then."

"Or as penance."

"What do y–"

"There you two are!" Tomi exclaimed. They turned their heads to see the halfling perched atop a caravan, the reins of their horses snug in his grip. "It's gonna be a long trip –so I figured we oughtta travel in style."

Tebriah covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a surprised laugh. Prudence dictated that it was best not to ask where he acquired the wagon, though she was dying to know. Experience saved her by knowing that she wouldn't like the answer if she'd heard it.

Boddyknock's eyebrow twitched at the sight, but he bit his tongue as well. They would allow the halfling to have his way at least until they were on the road.

Once they boarded and headed to the main gate, Tomi pulled out the map. "So where're we headed exactly?"

Boddyknock drew a line with a stick of charcoal. "We go north-north-east once we leave through the southern gate. Follow the river through Neverwinter Wood. We'll go between the Crags and Lurkwood, take the bridge into Mirabar, and go to the Spine from there."

He tallied up the numbers in his head. "If we go forty miles in a day it'll take us about… meh… six days if we hoof it." Tomi craned his head around and winked at Tebriah. He raised the reins above his head. "Hoof it?"  
>She laughed in spite of herself.<br>Tebriah had the sinking suspicion that this would be a very... _eccentric_ journey.


	12. Cloak Tower Confinement

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Cloak Tower Confinement <strong>_

Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.

On the outside, the Cloak Tower appeared to have seven levels. In a way, it did. The first was a reception hall for would-be potentiates and guests. The second floor was reserved for important clientele and some administrative faculty. The fourth and the fifth were classrooms and training quarters for their fledgling members. The sixth contained a chapel to Mystra, an infirmary for arcane "accidents" and sleeping quarters.

The seventh floor was an astral pocket in its entirety. Advanced and senior members of the guild could maintain entire "floors" to themselves and their studies. There were at least a dozen more levels in addition to the seven Neverwinter's citizens saw from the outside. No single member knew how many there truly were, as they could go hidden (should the mage be powerful enough), cloaked by numerous wards.

But there was one pocket that everyone knew existed, and no one was eager to visit –a place for penance, should any of the Many-Starred Cloaked have committed a crime.

The Depths –so named for their curious construction. Were someone to climb up to find the exit they would, in fact, traverse deeper into the dungeon, and encounter ferocious guardians on their way. One needed only to guess the outcome to understand why the place was so shunned.

Eltoora Sarptyl, Guild Mistress, did her utmost to avoid the place as well, but made an exception for the Depth's most recent guest.

Her heels clicked the dank floors until she reached a lonely cell. A woman sat slumped against one of its walls, her black hair tumbling in waves across her arms and shoulders.

"Came to laugh at me?"

Eltoora shook her head at the sad spectacle. "Why did you do it, Ophala? Lord Nasher is livid."

She raised her head. Her auburn eyes scorched Eltoora's face, betraying a benign smile. "You almost sound like a friend –how disgusting."

The Guild Mistress produced a lamp from her magic bag, alongside a prepared meal, setting it between them. She was old and wise enough to ignore the barbed comment. More surprisingly was the revelation that while she would normally feel irked, today she could only feel pity.

"I'm not going to pretend that we're friends," she admitted. "But you are still a valuable member of the guild, a Nine… and a rival I do hold in high esteem."

Ophala's eyes widened at that last remark. She reached out and took several grapes, popping them into her mouth.

"You should have known that pursuing her would have its consequences."

"_Her_ has a name, Eltoora," she snapped. "And I was prepared for at least this much the moment I went to Nasher."

"If you were so bent on pursuing Lesle then you should have left him in the dark."

"It was the honorable thing to do."

"Since when have you given two damns about _honor_?" she laughed, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "You couldn't have expected him to react any differently. The old coot is far too set in his ways, even I know that."

The raven-haired woman snorted under her breath. "Coming from a woman so bent on decorum, that's practically treason."

Her eyes twinkled in the dark. "Ah well, we all have our secrets now don't we?" She waited until Ophala ate her fill of what she'd brought, pleasantly surprised at the grateful tilt of her head afterwards. "So tell me, why did you do it?"

There was a long pause after the question. Ophala stared hard at the ground, her expression confused, then determined.

"I think we can both agree that she had potential. Lesle was as much a recluse as any proper mage, but driven in a way few can understand."

"If you got thrown in a cell for every student that had some talent then you'd never get out. There must be more than that."

"Because she was _wronged_." Righteous anger flashed in her eyes. "I've made many mistakes. Some I've come to terms with –others I've come to tolerate, but for my role in all this I couldn't do either." She looked at Eltoora in askance. "I know it's the same for you."

She turned away, ashamed at the truth of it.

"It was a complicated enchantment; woven into music of all things."

"Any bard that sang it, and any people in earshot, would instantly forget the influence Lesle Mere had on their lives," Ophala summarized. "It was beyond cruel. No one deserves such a thing."

"It was… excessive."

"Last I checked, we were not Luskan," she frowned. "I left Kurth, though I loved him like a fool at the time, because I believed in freedom and justice. And I have seen Nasher make many mistakes, but that was the one that caused me to question every decision he ever made. The only crime Lesle was guilty of was having a heart and the courage to follow it, despite the enemies that it made. She said 'no' to being used for political gain, and for that she was hunted down and erased from history."

"Ophala… it isn't your place to dispense justice."

"So it's Nasher's?" she asked, insulted. "A man is a man and a God is a God, and if a crown makes the distinction between one or the other then I'd sooner burn in the Nine Hells than live subject to this!" She tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "No, Eltoora, I am not dispensing justice –not even close to it."

"Then what would you call it?"

"…atonement."


	13. Secrets of The Lord

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Secrets of The Lord<br>**_

Several days ago, Sand and Khelgar arrived at Daeghun's homestead mere moments after Tebriah had left in the company of a strange gnome. Their only clue to her whereabouts was a name of a female ranger… who at one point lived in the Vale of Merdelain.

The moon elf wasn't about to let the matter rest, if only because he felt scorned by a sorcerer. Sand returned to his divining pool and called upon the wizards in the service of Castle Never, who reported that this mystery woman did not exist.

His nose told him something was very rotten about that response.

How could one of the greatest cities in Faerun, when it came to the gathering and storing of information, have not heard of a woman when a solidary elf from West Harbor clearly did?

There were two options.

On one hand, they were dealing with a myth.

On the other, far more likelier bent, this "Lesle Mere" was a tightly-kept secret.

"Sand? Sand, I need to get up there now!"

The wizard rolled his eyes and leaned towards the mouth of his horn. "Not now, you footstool, I'm working on unraveling a mystery."

He could just imagine the dwarf huffing at the response, so it came as a surprise when Khelgar spoke calmly in turn.

"Nevalle is here."

"…I don't believe you."

What came next was the smooth, though hushed voice of the man himself. "Sand… please, I need your help."

His eyebrows piqued together in interest. "Oh very well, come up, but _don't touch anything_."

Moments later Khelgar arrived at the base of his tower, with Nevalle in tow. This was the first time Sand had ever seen him sans his Nine tunic, which clearly dictated that this was not an official matter. More curious was that he had become scruffy in the face, half obscured by a tattered old cloak. If it weren't for the voice then Sand wouldn't have recognized him with a single glance.

"You look like a refugee."

His face scrunched at the observation. The wizard smiled. "Tea?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

Khelgar slapped his arm in appreciation. "Finally, a suggestion I can respect!"

Sand tactfully ignored the dwarf, keeping his eye on their guest. "That depends largely on your reason for coming here."

Nevalle snorted, "To the point as always."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me… but do feel free to continue." He walked them to the drawing room, pointing to the couches. "Careful not to leave any stains."

They seated themselves promptly. Sand hovered near his stash of liquors, setting out glasses.

"I understand that you made a recent inquiry to the castle mages."

"Maybe we did, maybe we didn't…" He didn't lift his gaze from the rim of the cups. "Either or, I fail to see how that is any business of yours."

"I was instructed to report it to Lord Nasher immediately."

"Oh _really_ now?" He began to pour Cormyrian bourbon into the goblet.

"Most information is never sent to him, so I found it odd. When I asked for details on the matter, he assured me that it was nothing I should concern myself over."

"Hmm… keeping secrets from his most _trusted_ guard. Smells like corruption to me."

"Bite your tongue!" Khelgar barked. "I don't agree with everything Lord Nasher does, but I know he's a man of honor!"

"Even the honorable have their secrets." Sand handed the drinks to his guests, curling up on the nearest ottoman like a cat. "I don't suppose you left things at that, Nevalle?"

"No… I went to the Archives. The caretakers had been replaced with automatons after the Githyanki attack, so I wasn't afraid of being recognized."

"And?"

"And… my authorization was denied."

Khelgar's eyes widened to the size of tea saucers. "But you're one of the members of the Nine. The only one with more power than that is–"

"–Lord Nasher himself," Sand finished. "Meaning that this 'Lesle Mere' is a skeleton from his personal graveyard. I think it's safe to assume that this is who Tebriah is out to find."

"The Knight-Captain is looking for her?" Nevalle asked, surprised. "How long ago was this?"

"Roughly a week."

Khelgar downed his drink in one go, wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand. "But this Mere-woman, she's dead."

"On the contrary, my dear dwarf," Sand crooned. "It means the possibility of her being alive is very high indeed."

"How so?" Nevalle wondered.

"A woman that almost no one knows about and is dead allows Lord Nasher to spin whatever story he pleases, painting her in an unfavorable light no doubt. I would assume it's political, somehow –it almost always is." The moon elf sipped on his drink, swirling its contents in thought. "The fact that Lord Nasher is going to such lengths as to keep it from the Nine speaks volumes in itself, foremost that this Lesle of Merdelain is very much alive."

"Well there's not much we can do about it if Lord Nasher himself wants to keep it a secret."

"We can always try the Royal Archives."

"If I couldn't get access to the government Archives then what makes you think I can get to the Royal ones?"

"To speak plainly, I don't. Legally, we have no chance of entering them. Theoretically I'm not even supposed to know that they exist."

"I don't like where you're going with this…: Khelgar muttered.

"I believe it's time we ask Neeshka if she'd like to take a tour of Castle Never."


	14. Lead Us to You

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lead Us To You<br>**_

Their trip took a little longer than expected on account of the odd gaggle of bandits and two wolf packs. All in all these were minor problems and took up less time than hitching a wheel from the mud and allowing their horses to rest. Their little company was now well between the Crags and Lurkwood. Tomorrow they would cross the river into Mirabar.

Tomi threw the bones of his chicken into the campfire. His usual humor gave way to a rare moment of serious thought. Across the way he saw Boddyknock looking over his collection of wands. And he could pick up Tebriah's steady breathing from the wagon where she slept.

Boddyknock had filled him in during the previous nights, on how this quest began. Now that he thought on it, Tebriah was the first person since Lesle that he actually called his leader.

But truthfully there was no comparison… not even close.

He removed a pouch from his belt, dropping a ring into the palm of his ruddy hands. Its band was a cool, pale blue, carved from the bone of a blue dragon. Its only real worth was in the tanzanite oval in its bezel setting. The faint purple gem was much too cloudy to be deemed valuable by a collector, but the halfling knew that this ring had a special sort of enchantment. The only one that brought it to fruition was the woman they were now after.

Every companion had given her an item in their travels, and as the bonds between them grew, so did their power.

One morning he awoke to find that ring on the pillow beside his head. Mere hours later, he watched Lesle escape from Castle Never. He rubbed the surface of the band between his thumb and forefinger, remembering the rage in her eyes. So much of him wanted to stop her and demand answers, but her expression at the time belonged to someone that would kill themselves if she failed to run away.

A painful sharpness stabbed at his heart. He squeezed the ring, gasped, and quickly returned it to his pouch.

The gnome was right in front of him.

"_Bloody_ _hell!_" he breathed, leaning backwards. "What d'ya want?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for some time now."

"Well… you have it," he answered, flustered.

"That ring was hers, wasn't it?" It was worded as a question, but spoken as a fact.

"It was mine originally, but yeah. So what?"

The sorcerer lifted a chain from beneath his collar. Attached was a band of bold design, woven of copper, bronze, and rose-gold. Tomi recognized it, but just vaguely.

"This is Prophyro's Ring… I had also given it to her during the course of our travels. May I assume that, like me, you found your ring on your pillow the day she disappeared?"

"Yeah, so?"

He extended a hand. "May I?"

Tomi knew the sorcerer was far too focused to think of stealing or damaging anything he owned. He also knew that his analysis, though irritating in its extreme, was also invaluable. Reluctantly, he placed his ring in the gnome's twitching fingers.

Boddyknock turned the piece of jewelry over in his hand, making sounds of interest as he went. Seconds later, he offered Tomi back his ring.

"Before you put it away I would like to try something."

"…a'ight."

"Hold it still as I bring mine closer to its surface."

With a steady grip, Boddyknock slowly brought his ring to Tomi's, and in the instant they were about to meet…

…sparks flew out between them.

In shock, Tomi dropped his ring onto his lap. His mouth flapped open and closed, stammering and swearing all at once. Boddyknock smiled as though he had just won a decisive victory.

"W-what in the Nine Hells was _that_ s'posed to be?"

"You are aware that the items we gave Lesle, either through bonds between us, or by the considerable magic we encountered, grew stronger over time."

"…_yeah?_"

"Like any item, if you wear it long enough and devote any sort of power or feeling around them, they will gain attributes." The gnome slid his ring back beneath his shirt. "A part of Lesle's aura still emanates from our items."

"I get the feeling that there's a point in all this, but I'm not really seeing it at the moment, mate."

"Think about it, Tomi," he said, leaning in excitedly. "She planned her escape –why else would she go out of her way to return our items the day of? And in case you forgot, she expressly asked us all to stay in Castle Never."

"Till the city was good enough to stand on its feet again."

"An excellent reason, and therefore a simply ingenious proxy." His dark eyes twinkled. "Tomi, I think that if we gather everyone, and bring these items together, we might just have our clue as to where she went."

The halfling finally caught on. His expression brightened easily. "Like a trail of breadcrumbs… by the backside of Brandobaris! That's exactly like her!" He slapped Boddyknock on his shoulder, keeling him over. "We're off to Mirabar, mate!"


	15. Half-Truths in Plain Sight

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Half-Truths in Plain Sight<br>**_

The world was shaking. Tebriah cocked one eye open, watching the wagon bumping through gaps in the floor boards. She groaned, covered her forehead with the back of her hand, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. This did little to alleviate the soreness of her shoulders and lower back. Minutes passed before she gave up on sleeping altogether. The bard crawled from her corner and leaned on the back of the riders' bench.

Sunlight played through the rogue's hair, its ends curling around his face. He grinned his crooked grin, taking an eyeful of her still-sleeping expression. "Morning m'lady."

"Good morning, Tebriah," the gnome greeted similarly. He offered a mug in her general direction. "Would you like some tea?"

In her head, she graciously accepted the offer, but what came out was a strangled string of groans and syllables. Tomi snickered as she brought the drink to her lips. The warmth filled her sore and tired body. By the time the cup was half empty, she felt human again.

"So what made you set out so early today?" she yawned. "It was still dark out when I opened my eyes."

The short men looked on one another.

"You could say that we were struck by sudden… inspiration," Boddyknock replied.

She didn't feel like asking for them to elaborate; the bard was content to be able to comprehend simple sentences in her current state.

"And we made good time too," Tomi announced. He pointed through the misty morning. "Ladies and gentle gnomes, welcome to Mirabar."

She blinked, her eyes adjusting through the fog. The Mirar River stretched wide, with an impressive bridge to cross it. Judging by the thick logs and craftsmanship of it alone, she ventured that it was of dwarven make.

Further down on the other shore was a grassy knoll. She could barely make out the buildings, thick stone structures with heavily sloped walls reminiscent of Mulsantir. Tebriah scraped through her memory, recalling that Mirabar was an exceedingly wealthy city, despite its imposing appearance in its dreary backdrop. The topside held a largely human city, and beneath were dwarven mines. Some argued it was the largest mining operation in northern Faerun, second only to Mithral Hall.

Platinum armor-wearing guards eyed them as they crossed the threshold. Tebriah knew that to people born and raised in one area, any visitor was seen with a measure of wariness, especially in a mixed-race company. Experience taught her that while adventuring made for a good story and the rare glorious trip, they were unwelcome more often than not. Adventurers meant there was something to be found in an area, which meant an influx of all manner of people seeking fame or riches. That tended to bring on thieves and diseases, and all sorts of other characters looking for a slice of the land and its people.

On her way to Daeghun she had crossed through the ruins of West Harbor, only to find mages excavating fields, looking for traces of demonic or shadow residue, and young adventurers shifting through the wreckage, making a bizarre pilgrimage of the place.

It pained her greatly to watch others pick apart the place she was raised in, to treat her memories in a way that was borderline sacrilegious. So she sympathized greatly with the disgruntled and dismayed expressions of older city-dwellers. If nothing else, she was determined to treat their home with the respect hers never had.

Tomi brought the wagon to a halt, clapping the dirt off his hands. "So, what's our next course of action? A bite to eat?"

Her stomach growled. Tebraih smiled bashfully. "I'd say some food is definitely in order, but just to be safe, I think it's good if someone watched the wagon."

"We'll have to sell it," the gnome countered. "Taking it into the mountains would be tantamount to suicide –we'll be easy pickings for orc raiding bands."

"Gnome's got a point." Tomi slapped the side of the wagon. "Maybe we'll keep the horses. After we find Daelan and drag his arse back, we can sell them when we get into a boat."

"A logical solution." Boddyknock took the reins in his hands. "I'll find a merchant to sell the wagon then. You two find yourselves something to eat."

"Are you not hungry?" Tebriah asked, surprised. "You hardly eat at all."

The gnome smiled reassuringly, patting his shrunken bag of holding on his belt. "I'm afraid I need to cut back on my snacking. I'm quite fond of sweets, and keep them close at hand."

It began to make sense. Tebriah nodded, following after Tomi.

"Have you been here before?" she asked. "You seem to know the place."

"I… uh… shall we say, took a tour of the silver mines some years ago." He shrugged to himself. "One thing you can count on with dwarves is that they hate change; odds are if you visit a city once then it's the same from when it was founded."

"Well if you're carving stone then it makes sense to do it right the first time."

They walked into an establishment called the _Stout Tankard_, a good a name as any, she figured. A sprite young woman approached them after they were seated, her rosy face beaming with a practiced smile.

"What can we do ya for?"

"Have any fresh bread?"

"Aye ma'am, only an hour old at latest."

"Then we'll take two loaves, barley soup, a wedge of whatever cheese you have most in stock, and some fruits if you have any to spare."

"And ale!" Tomi added. "Not watered down."

Tomi gave her a wink, eliciting a blush. She turned around and walked into the kitchens.

"Implying that they water down their drinks is a bit rude, no?"

"They _always_ water em down if you're not a dwarf or a local," he argued. "Every town is the same, always assuming you've got a weaker gut if you're not from around their parts."

"Alright," she sighed.

He began drumming his fingers on the table. Seconds later he whipped his head towards her and simply _had_ to ask, "So why you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ya know," he insisted. "You. This quest. Why? The gnome and me, I get. But you've got nothin' to do with Les –no offense meant m'lady."

"Honestly I'm not sure myself. Boddyknock asked on behalf of Ophala. She was of great help to me in the past, and I'd like to return the favor."

He rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"Biggest damned liar in Neverwinter –after Nasher," he amended. "I bet when you first laid eyes on her she was this sparkling raven-haired beauty, all nice and composed in that overpriced fortress of an eatery."

"Well… yes, actually." Tebriah thought on it. When she'd first met Ophala she still had straw jutting out from her hair. She distinctly remembered the women of the Mask recoiling when she entered, exchanging hushed whispers on the most polite way to show her back out the door. Ophala, by comparison, didn't so much as bat an eyelash at her appearance, smell, or her company. She smiled with the practiced grace of a queen, with enough steel in her eyes to warn against any ill-motives.

"The Moonstone Mask used to be a whore-house. Sure, the food was a little better compared to most places during the Plague, but it never did justify the price." He waved his hand, dismissing his little rant. "She used to have a _figure_, and I mean a pair o' tits that'd make ya kneel in prayer if ya ever got between 'em, and the finest ass I've seen since coming across a pair of belly-dancing twins in Calimport." He made a vulgar sound, groping the air. "I dunno how she did it –stopped eating or some magic gone afoul, but the woman turned into a bloody scarecrow."

The waitress quietly left their ordered food on the table. Tebriah cautiously took a sip of her barley soup.

"So she went through an image change. I don't see how that makes her a liar."

"Oh." He came back to reality. "Right. Well I doubt she told ya she's a Neverwinter Nine or one of the best wizards in the Cloak Tower."

Her spoon fell into the bowl. "What?"

"Aye," he nodded, tearing off a chunk of bread and popping it into his mouth. "Course, we didn't know it back then either. Just suddenly the woman tells us to go rob three fat nobles, for some artwork that didn't even look all that pretty. The pay was good though," he admitted, "but still odd."

"Ophala commissioned a theft…"

Tomi raised an eyebrow, rapping on his head. "Not the brightest torch in the night, are ya?"

"I just can't believe she'd do that."

"Like I said, Neverwinter was a _very_ different place in our time," he said through a full mouth. "The woman likes to play sides. Apparently traveled the planes for a bit, and shacked up with good old High Captain Kurth. He even asked us how she was doin' before he tried to kill us all. Another bright one, there, taking on a party o' seven when he's by himself."

"I just can't imagine it."

"More of a reason why I don't see why Ophala'd ask ya to get into this." He raised his hands when he saw the irritation boiling beneath her expression. "Look, I'm not sayin' I don't appreciate the help. Ya pull your weight damned well –I've seen nothing less. It's just that if _she_ asked then there's more to it. I've known Ophala long enough to know that she'll always tell ya the truth, but never the whole of it."

Tebriah scowled. "What you're saying is that I have a role in this mystery, but you can't figure out what it is."

"Exactly," he beamed. "And if you ever get any illuminations, lemme know."

"Why?"

"Curiosity, really. And as a rogue I'm used to the one doing the deception, so it doesn't sit right with me when anyone's got me guessing. After Lesle, you're the biggest mystery, and from what I know about Ophala, it's probably hiding in plain sight."


	16. Chasing Daelan

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chasing Daelan<br>**_

Boddyknock came to find them shortly after they left the tavern. He held in his hands a sheet of paper, unrolling it as he neared.

"I've spoken with some townspeople who've marked the most recent passage of the Red Tiger Tribe on our map. They're moving into the eastern range now, but we should be able to catch up to them in a day's ride."

"Huh, I'm surprised they wandered this far from Klauth's cave to begin with," said Tomi.

"Where exactly was that cave?" Tebriah wondered.

He leaned over, pointing at a spot on the map. "Well Beorunna's smack in between Coldwood, Moonwood, The Night Trees, and Druar Wood. And we found the cave around…" he dragged his finger north and west. "I'd say it was closest to Dark Arrow Keep."

"Around there, yes," Boddyknock agreed.

"But that's nearly two hundred and fifty miles away from Mirabar!" she exclaimed. "I knew barbarians were nomadic, but isn't this a little ridiculous?"

"If you think about the barbarians that trek across the Sea of Moving Ice, and factor in a more favorable climate, then it doesn't become as far-fetched," the gnome pointed out. "And from what I've gathered, this was not the entire tribe, but Daelan was here not long ago to acquire some items for their more permanent settlement at Klauth's cave."

"Alrighty then." Tomi tugged a fur-lined cloak from his pack, swinging it around his neck and shoulders. "No sense in standing around if we wanna catch up to him."

Tebriah helped them saddle their mounts. She took up hers and whispered a spell of mass haste. Boddyknock grinned, doing the same for endurance.

"To prevent any unneeded injury," he explained.

"I'll take point then," Tebriah decided. "In case anything happens, I want you to start slinging spells, and Tomi to pick them off one by one."

"Aye, m'lady!"

"Well thought."

Tebriah smirked to herself, pulling her scarf above her nose. She didn't know what Ophala's motives were for getting her involved in this quest, but if it was going to be her last adventure before retirement, then she was determined to do it right.


	17. Unexpected Aid

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Unexpected Aid<br>**_

Neeshka was surprised when she received a message from Sand –giving her instructions and _permission_ to break into Castle Never.

Now, she'd never heard of these "Royal Archives" and she had damn good sources, but she figured that an elf with some fancier learning and a few years on her knew better. Either way, she'd have access to some nice jewels or expensive gear.

First she went to Crossroad Keep, where Sand gave her a heavily enchanted hairclip. While wearing it, she would be under a glamour that would make her appear as a human courtesan. She walked right past the guards into the castle in broad daylight, and then she stole away to a storage closet she had found while she and Tebriah were searching for the entrance to Neverneath.

All she had to do then was wait –and wait she did.

Sand didn't have to supply more than that. She ditched her gown in the crates and changed into her thieving gear, then double checked her stash of invisibility potions on her belt. Twenty of them were securely strapped in. Five more were in her pack in case of emergency.

Castle Never was eerie at night –the same way a school or hospice was when its halls were empty. It was easy to hear which ones were patrolled, on account of armored guards treading on hard floors. She ran as far as she dared to search without getting lost in its winding corridors. It was in the western wing, where Nevalle mentioned, that she found a plausible entrance for these Royal Archives.

There were two statues of Lord Halueth Never, one holding a sword, and the other, a shield. Neeshka took a deep breath, looking at the space between them.

_Nevalle better be right about this,_ she thought, and then walked into the stone blocks.

To her amazement, she went directly _through_ the wall, and into another chamber.

The Royal Archives was a deceptive title for a place that beared closer resemblance to a dungeon. Neeshka made a face in the dark, dismayed by its ominous appearance. The space was cavernous and littered with webs and insects. The only real guard that she could see was a clerk, clad in all black, sitting at a desk with a single candle.

She approached cautiously, getting the distinct impression that it wasn't human. Its face seemed to be missing, or completely shrouded in pitch blackness. The tiefling did the only thing she could, and removed a wand from her satchel.

A gust of wind flew in its general direction; she ran past it as soon as its candle snuffed out.

Seconds later, when she was behind the nearest corner, it was lit again, and it was quiet. She thanked Tymora that the creature didn't seem to notice her, or at least wasn't keen on pursuing its guest.

Using her inherent darkvision, Neeshka realized that the walls were loaded with books, and some were nearly as big as she was. She swore silently –Sand would shit himself if he realized how much information he'd have to sift through in order to find any mention of one girl.

She thought on what little she had to go on. If this Lesle Mere person was someone that Lord Nasher was trying to erase, then he'd probably go farther than just putting it in some secret archive.

Keeping that in mind, the tiefling continued into the dark.

It grew colder, the more she went, indicating that she was well underground at this point. She could make out the silvery shimmer of webs on every aisle… and yet she didn't run into a single one.

_Someone's been here_, she thought.

She continued onwards, taking invisibility potions as the enchantment wore off, turning in whichever direction there were no webs blocking her path. After roughly ten minutes she could see a faint light down the hall. Whomever burned them was still there.

The closer she came the more she heard what she thought resembled crying –the muffled sobs of a man. She jolted at the sound of an enraged scream, and warily leaned into the doorway to get a better look.

Neeshka gaped at the old man hunched over piles and piles of books and paper, littered on the floor in a tiny alcove that seemed pristine compared to the rest of the Archives.

Lord Nasher sat without his crown, digging his fingers into his scalp. She watched him watching the floor for maybe an hour, lost in thought, guilt burned into his reddened face. Finally, he picked up his torch and lifted a bottle off the ground, pouring it everywhere. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was up to, and before she could jump in to grab a document –any document, he brought the tip of his torch to the floor.

Flames engulfed the spirit-soaked paper, and he left, unaware of the tiefling that was pressed hard against the wall.

After he left her field of vision, Neeshka stared at the fire, dismayed. Even if she rushed in and took something it would only fall to ash in her fingers.

She waited for the fire to die out before she chanced walking among the embers.

"There's got to be _something_," she sighed. She knelt on the ground and began shifting through the ash, trying to make out legible text. Her best finds contained bits and pieces of dates and numbers. "_Hells, hells, hells, hells!"_ she swore.

And then she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Neeshka jumped, turning around very, very slowly.

A man stood there, with skin so dark that he almost blended into his surroundings. Wordlessly, he raised a book so she could see, and on it sat an amulet with a faint glow within.

"Is that… for me?" she asked. "Is it about Lesle Mere?"

She couldn't see his expression, but by the small shift of its muscles she guessed that it hardened somehow.

"_Find her_."

He walked out the chamber, and she followed after him, but in that split second he had utterly disappeared. She checked for signs of disturbed webs, but found none. The only indication that her encounter had been real was the tome and amulet now firmly in her hands.


	18. Nevalle's Recollection

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Nevalle's Recollection<br>**_

"What do you mean by he _burned _it?"

Neeshka threw her arms above her head. "I mean he _burned _it. Doused the room in liquor and burned it all to the Nine Hells! Don't you speak Common, Sand?"

The wizard pressed two fingers to his temple. Beside him, Nevalle closed his eyes at the unpleasant news.

"_But_," Neeshka added, "Someone snuck up behind me and handed me these."

No sooner did she pull out the book and necklace did Sand jump at them. He eagerly flipped through the folds. Nevalle seemed more concerned, however.

"Someone? Do you have any idea who?"

The tiefling shrugged. "Dunno. Some weird mysterious guy just handed them to me while I was looking around. Boy, did I think I was in trouble. I asked if this was something on Lesle Mere, and all he said was _find her_," she repeated, trying to mimic his deep, exotic voice. "So anyway," she changed the topic, looking at the wizard, "what is that book anyway?"

"…a quest journal," Sand replied. "It was from some twenty six… twenty seven… odd years ago, starting with a letter from Lady Aribeth de'Tylmarande asking this Lesle Mere to attend the Neverwinter Academy."

Sand snapped his fingers. "_That's_ where I've heard of him!"

"Heard of who?"

"That damned, sniveling sorcerer of a gnome," he seethed. "Lesle Mere was the Hero of Neverwinter that rid the city of the Wailing Death and defended it from Luskan, and that gnome that took our Knight-Captain away was one of her companions.

"So… what about the necklace?" she wondered.

"Oh." He peered down his long nose at the jewelry, shifting it in his hands. "Well it does have a small enchantment –to cast the Light cantrip and that's about it. The only thing unique is its design. If I had to guess then it was probably made in Lantan or Chult. Maybe it belonged to this Lesle Mere."

"If she was really Lesle of Merdelain," Nevalle posed, "then why would she own anything that exotic?"

Sand rolled his eyes, shaking the book in his hands. "She was an _adventurer_, Gods only know the things we've discovered in our own journeys. I was faintly aware of this woman; however… she's somewhat… shall we say… _infamous_ in Luskan."

"Oh?"

"Slaughtered the vast majority of Host Tower mages. This was while I was just an apprentice, newly arrived to the city. It was such a mess," he sighed. "Everyone barricaded themselves indoors. Wererats wandering the streets and skirmishes in broad daylight. I should have remembered her involvement in such a time in my life. I find it very strange that I only recall it now."

"You and me both," Nevalle concurred. "Part of the reason I was inducted as a member of the Nine was for my memory. That date places me as a student of the Academy myself. Lesle Mere was…" His sentence drifted. Realization lit up his face. "Lesle Mere was my senior! Tyr have mercy… how could I have forgotten? The girl was my idol!"

"_Ooh_." Neeshka's tail trailed up his leg. "Pretty Nevalle had a crush back in school, eh? I want details."

"_As do I_," Sand crooned. "And I was never informed that you studied there."

"Well," he coughed. "I went through somewhat of an image change. I… I had a twin," he admitted quietly. "I met Lesle the day the Academy was attacked by the people that would set the Waterdhavian creatures loose into the streets. I watched my brother get cut down in the chaos, and after that I realized that I was in way over my head." He cast his eyes to the floor. "I thought that working as a blacksmith's apprentice gave me the authority on how to swing a sword, but all I really knew was how to make them then, and a shot job of it too. I hid in the library near the staff quarters, thinking I'd have a better chance near the instructors."

"Then what happened?" Neeshka wondered.

"Then Lesle barreled through the doors, caked in goblin blood. She was almost calm, which I found strange. We teamed up to get out of there in one piece. She left for the Halls of Justice, and I looked for a hole to die in, essentially." He smiled then, wistful. "When I told her that I wasn't cut out for this life, she told me '_You just have to stick with it_'. It sounds so simple now, but it hit me, deep inside."

Neeshka looked at the two of them. "So both of you knew a LOT about her. Why did you have me go steal more information, then?"

"Our tiefling has a point," Sand admitted. "This _reeks_ of an enchantment. And since the Cloak Tower was involved then I'm not surprised. It seems that searching for Lesle Mere is what we need to dispel its effect, and the more we learn, the better our memories. Now I notice that there are definite gaps in mind that are quite troubling."

"Well… forget that," Neeshka decided, turning to Nevalle. "So how'd a chicken like you end up becoming a Nine?"

"I…" He blanched. "After the Academy was destroyed I was on the streets. I helped save a guard from getting trampled in a riot. They gave me the City Watch armor then, and I felt much more composed when I was beside brothers-in-arms. I rose up the ranks and then… Lesle ran away." He gripped his hair, his eyes squeezed shut as though he was in pain. Nevalle breathed heavily. "She… she was leaving Castle Never, and then the alarm sounded. I was… I was at the gates. Someone screamed at me to close them and I..."

Sand dabbed a wet cloth on his forehead. "Think, Nevalle, then you _what_?"

"She was crying. And I let her escape." His breathing slowed. "I was almost deafened by my superior, and eventually brought in front of Lord Nasher himself because of it. Then he _thanked _me for stopping him. And my punishment… was to become a Nine, a position that she refused days earlier."

Sand handed the damp cloth to Neeshka, who continued calming the troubled man. The moon-elf wizard flipped to the end of the journal, around the date that Nevalle had described.

"By the Gods…"

Neeshka looked up. "What?"

"I believe I know why she ran off." Sand lifted the journal, shoving it under her nose. Neeshka saw a page full of scribbles and ink that had been splotched by what looked like tears. And then finally, a sentence.

**_I won't let him steal_****–**

Then, there was blood.


	19. Theory Confirmed

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Theory Confirmed<br>**_

They were thrown high into the air.

Tebriah rolled into a ball, slamming against the base of a tree. She heard their horses whinny in pain. When she opened her eyes she saw figures above them, built like mountains.

"Orcs?"

"No." She was hauled up fiercely by a set of rough hands. A closer look revealed fierce red tattoos across this warrior's face.

Boddyknock was lifted high off the ground. In the most distinguished way possible, he told them, "We seek an audience with Chieftain Daelan of the Red Tiger."

The barbarians looked on one another. Tebriah noticed that what the horses tripped on had been a long band of sinewy fabric, tied taut between the trees. They must have known that they were coming.

The barbarian scouts soon reached a consensus, because they were slung across their backs like potatoes. Even Tomi knew better than to struggle. He also knew better than to begin small talk, for which Tebriah was eternally grateful.

They were led into a camp, with leather tarps tied in a conical fashion around tree trunks. Their escorts threw them onto the leaves and twigs. Tebriah only just noticed that she had been sliced across her temple somewhere in the fall. She pressed her hand against the wound and wiped the blood from her line of sight.

They were at the foot of a tent larger than the others in the camp, with strands of shells and feathers dangling on either side of an entrance flap. A withered old crone came outside, elaborate scars tracing her features in the imitation of a macabre mask.

"Spirit Shaman…" Tebriah murmured, and the woman gave her a thin smile in return, more terrifying than consoling.

"We," she began, her voice stunningly smooth despite her appearance, "saw you in a dream." With her gnarled staff, she touched Tebriah on her bleeding brow. "Your intention to speak with Daelan had been known to us for days." She knelt on the ground, grasping her chin within her fingers with astonishing strength. Tebriah felt as though her soul was stripped bare before the crone's blind eyes. "We sense no ill-intent, yet there is… determination, yes. It dances on the line of ferocity. Why have you come, Tebriah of Merdelain?"

She noticed that all activity in the camp had stopped. Everyone was now staring at her and this old woman, in equal parts caution and wonder.

"We're seeking a woman," she replied. "A friend of Daelan's."

"And the purpose becomes clear to us," she nodded slowly. "But _why_? What is the goal of seeking this woman? We would know what you intend to do with her once she is found."

"To solve a mystery… to get closure for those closest to her."

"And what is her name?"

"Lesle Mere."

Muttering surrounded them. Tebriah looked up to see that the flap to the tent had opened once more. A half-orc stood before them, taller than much of his kind, though leaner and closer in the physique of a man. Muscles rippled beneath his hide jerkin, and his hair and beard were streaked in silver. There was something fearsome about him, about his control and tranquility. In his eyes, Tebriah could see a still pool, but with a hurricane raging just beneath its surface, waiting to be unleashed. He looked at his guests then, at Tomi, and Boddyknock, who stared in silent awe, and then at her.

"You are welcome in our home, Tebriah of Merdelain," he announced. The camp breathed a noticeable sigh of relief. "I see Tomi, and Boddyknock, and believe you speak the truth of your quest. Come," he beckoned, "sit with me by the fire."

They followed after him, watching the camp move on with what it had been doing. No one paid them any mind, and they all sat a respectable distance away from their Chieftan and his guests.

Tomi let out a low whistle. "Seems like ya finally got your due."

The half-orc smiled, and Tebriah was surprised by how comforting it was to look at. In many ways, Daelan seemed more human… and humane… than most.

"It took many years of effort."

"Ya always were a patient one."

"Thank you," he nodded, and then turned to her again. "Now what would you have of me, Tebriah? How may I aid you in your quest?"

"Could you please tell us where you last saw Lesle?"

Daelan stroked his chin, looking back on his memory. "She was… in the Halls of Justice, in its sanatorium. This was the day before she disappeared."

"Can you tell us about what she was doing there, or what you talked about?"

"She…" He slowed to an almost halt, suddenly uncomfortable. "She was creating a corpse."

"_What_?" Tomi gasped. "Why in the hells would she do that?"

"Shush," said the gnome. "Please go on, Daelan."

"Over the course of our adventures together, Lesle came to learn of the arcane. In time, she was as much a wizard as she was a ranger." He folded his arms squarely across his chest. "That day she'd asked me to accompany her to the market. She bought a great deal of beef. She laid it out in the sanatorium and used it to transmute a body… in Aribeth's likeness."

Tomi pinched the bridge of his nose, and stayed silent. It seemed as though he knew where this was going. Tebriah and Boddyknock continued to listen.

"After the war with Luskan," Daelan continued, "her body was to be thrown off a cliff and into the sea, without any rites or proper burial."

"Why didn't they lay her to rest in the Tomb of the Betrayers?"

"Because she was deemed… unworthy of even that," he answered grimly. "Priests were terrified of her spirit's rage and passion, and whether the wards of the Tomb could bind her."

"Lesle spirited the real body away, didn't she?" asked Boddyknock. "She took care of the rites."

"She did," he affirmed. "I do not know where it is, but I do know that she was determined to treat Aribeth's real body with honor and dignity… especially after that incident."

"Incident?" Tebriah asked.

Tomi shook his head. "Lesle asked us never to talk about it. Sorry m'lady. If you ever want to find out what it is, you'll have to hear it from her yourself."

Tebriah didn't know what to say to that. Her typical reaction would be to feel miffed at being left out, but she was more impressed by the fact that the loudest mouth in their group felt the need to maintain his silence to a woman they haven't seen in over twenty years.

Again, she wanted to meet Lesle, to see exactly what this woman was like, that she could inspire such tremendous loyalty in her friends.

"Daelan," Boddyknock cut in, "The day she disappeared, did you find your amulet on your pillow?"

The half-orc's eyes widened a bit at the mention. "Yes… how did you know?"

"It was the same for us. The other night Tomi and I realized that there was energy emanating from our items that wasn't there before. May we see yours to verify our theory?"

Wordlessly, Daelan pulled a chain off his neck. It was shaped in the claw of a tiger, its nails stained with red pigment. Tomi extended a ring from his pocket, and Boddyknock did the same with his own.

Tebriah watched the three men bring the items closer together, and a flash lit up between them.

Tomi let out a triumphant laugh. "It wasn't a fluke!"

"It seems not," the gnome agreed.

"Um…" everyone looked at Tebriah. She pointed at the gravel at their feet. "I think it made… some kind of picture."

They looked down, where the stones had shifted in definite grooves.

"It's quite… vague," Boddyknock decided. "But I believe that it could possibly be a map of some sort."

"So you are saying," Daelan interrupted, "That if we gathered the companions, or at least the tokens that Lesle returned, that they will lead us to her?"

"Yes."

Daelan stood up. They watched as he moved to the old crone from before. They spoke in hushed tones. He entered his tent and reappeared minutes later, holding traveling equipment.

"I will accompany you on your quest, Tebriah of Merdelain."

"I'm grateful, but what of your tribe?"

"Ydren will guide it for the time being," he replied, motioning to the old woman. "It is not the first time I have had to be away from the Red Tiger. We are a people of honor, and they will continue moving even if I do not return."

"Then we very much welcome your company." She inclined her head as gracefully as she could –still sore from their very rough landing.

"Where are we off next?"

"Back to Mirabar," she replied confidently. "Of course, we can get there faster if we had our horses back, but I'm not sure if they can make it now."

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound resonating from his very core. "They are fine. Our healers have already tended to them. A night's rest will do them good, however. And from Mirabar?"

"Well…" she looked at Boddyknock. "You said this… Captain Vengaul should be there by now?"

"Vengaul?" Daelan's brow shot up to his hairline. He laughed in spite of himself. "I'm surprised he's still alive!"

"Men like him seem to cheat everyone," Boddyknock smirked, "including Death."

"I wonder if he still wears that… colorful… outfit."

"_Oh_ yes," he confirmed. "Yes he's quite fond of it I'm afraid."

Daelan shook his head. "We're headed to Athkatla, then? I've heard Sharwyn has been doing well for herself there."

"Aye," said Tomi. "Either she's a star or the King's favorite concubine. I can't keep up with the rumor mill in Amn –least the noble side of it. Hells, I'm surprised you bother to keep with current events."

"As much as I can," he responded. "Ignorance has led the Uthgardt to many tragedies that could have been avoided. I make frequent visits to more… permanent locales for the news especially. Linu troubles me the most… one would think we'd hear quite often about her, even though the elves are a race that prefer to keep to themselves. The fact that I haven't heard of Evereska in a decade troubles me."

"Maybe it's just quiet?" Tebriah offered.

The three men looked at her, deadly serious. "_Nothing_ is quiet with Linu."


	20. Wisdom of The Closet Sunite

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Wisdom of The Closet Sunite<br>**_

Ophala stared at her sun-starved complexion. One week in Neverwinter was like one month in the Depths. Eltoora had been remarkably kind, and left a store of food for her. The typical denizen would have to go out and stalk their prey, and hope its flesh wasn't poisonous.

She touched her black hair, twirling it between her fingers, and for a moment, used a glamour to reveal what she would appear like at her true age.

If she hadn't dabbled with enchantments, then she would have aged gracefully. Her hair would retain its raven strands, mixed within a sea of silver. She looked at this reflection –what could have been if she hadn't become an adventuress in her youth, and felt so very old.

At that moment a cloaked figure entered her chamber in the Cloak Tower. He took one look at this aged version of the woman he was seeking, and whatever he wanted to say ended up tangled in a web of thoughts.

"Skulking about like a sneak thief, my Lord?" she snorted. "Some hobbies never change."

"I keep forgetting you're older than I am."

She glared daggers at him. Nasher Alagondar pulled down the cowl of his cloak and looked away, strongly resembling the foolish young man he used to be.

"With your social _graces_ it's no wonder that our relations with Luskan have deteriorated," she snipped back at him. "A woman's age and weight are taboo, even for Lords of Neverwinter."

She dispelled the enchantment, back to her equally lovely, younger appearance. Her cheeks had sunk in, however. And there were bruises on her arms and back from her run-in with a slaad. Lord Nasher saw these and cringed.

"I… overreacted, Ophala."

"I'd like to see you in the Depths for a week without your Nine," she shot back, unable to contain her venom. "Overreacted is shutting down the Mask for a few weeks. You threw me in an arena!"

He narrowed his eyes in her direction. "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't believe you capable of handling it."

"So if I could _handle_ it you would have strapped me to the Wall of the Faithless? Or sold me off to the Host Tower?" she suggested. "How _dare_ you be so arrogant as to assume someone's potential. Not even the Gods have that right. Yes, I agree you overreacted, far more than you'll ever understand."

He turned around. "I don't even remember why I came here."

She stood from her vanity table, throwing her arm at the door. A wooden bar fell from the outside, locking them in.

"That fact that you came here proves that you still have a shred of conscience," she countered, her voice steadying as she worked to calm herself. "I wouldn't have made such a fuss about Lesle if I didn't believe that you had none left."

He clenched his fists. Ophala saw his knuckles run white.

"_That_ was why I sent you to the Depths, Ophala," he replied. "Certainly, you told me in the beginning what you wanted, but then you went behind my back and commissioned a search! I am your sovereign, Ophala Cheldarstorn, and you owe me your loyalty!"

She spun him by the shoulder and slapped him squarely across the face.

"I owe _Neverwinter_ my loyalty. Name a single time where I have ever betrayed this city or its people, Nasher." She cut the edge off his rage, gauging by his expression. "Remember that you became Lord of this city because its people valued your character and your principals. I had loyalty for you then, and I freely admit that it is something I haven't had for you in a very long time."

"What you speak of is treason, Ophala."

"Then answer me. How can you expect me to be loyal to a man that isn't loyal to himself?"

"You're talking nonsense."

She threw her arms at her sides. "You used to be loyal to those that served you! Before I was your servant, I was your friend! You cherished those bonds, Nasher. You kept your word and you did what you believed was right, no matter the circumstance."

"They were the decisions of a man that didn't yet know responsibility."

"As a follower a Tyr, then," she tried. "Yes, you are expected to hold to the laws of a city, but you are also beholden to the law of your soul."

"I've had enough. Open the door."

"You saw yourself in her, Nasher. Lesle was everything you once were, and unlike you, she chose to remain true to _her_ justice."

"I said _enough_!"

"You wanted to break her! You didn't want to be wron–!"

He pushed her away. Ophala crashed into the floor, her jaw hitting the tile. Lord Nasher breathed heavily, and opened the door now that the plank fell away in her loss of focus.

Her eyes fluttered open seconds later.

"Look… in the mirror."

He faced his reflection in the vanity, and was stunned to see how old he appeared. Nasher stood ridiculously, dressed like a shady, fumbling thief. His hand was still outstretched from when he threw Ophala onto the ground, and his face, and eyes, reflected fear.

"Tell me... I'm wrong," she dared him, blood trickling from the corner of her bruised mouth.

His jaw opened and closed. "Don't cross me again, Ophala. Stop meddling in my affairs!"

And then he stormed out of the room.

She waited until he left the floor entirely, and then felt a hand help her onto her feet.

"Thank you."

Eltoora dispelled her invisibility, dour-faced at the woman. "You're playing with a very dangerous sort of flame."

"Sadly, this part about him hasn't changed a bit over the years," she sighed. "Always a temper. More importantly…" she gazed upon the heavy curtains to her window. "You can come out now."

The woman watched as a man stepped into the light of the room. His dark skin shone like mahogany in the glow of the torches. He was middle aged, though remarkably well preserved, his thin dreadlocks woven with silvering braids, kept back by a bronze band.

Eltoora sat at a nearby table. "You now have your proof, Aarin. Lord Nasher is responsible for her disappearance."

He did nothing. It was difficult to read his expression, but Ophala gleaned a measure of pain from his light brown eyes.

"Thank you for saving her journal, Aarin," she decided. "And thank you for handing it to Neeshka when you did. You can count on the Knight-Captain and her friends to find her."

"There is a reason, I'm sure," he said finally.

Ophala and Eltoora looked at each other, pitying glances abound.

"You saw him, Aarin. Lesle was Nasher's other path –the one he should have taken. I cannot fault him for that much. I can't imagine how hard it would be to live alongside the person you should have become, knowing that you were wrong. But trying to shackle her to the city… that was the error I could not overlook. Nor my part in what happened after."

"The enchantment itself is simple to break," Eltoora offered. "A little prodding is enough for it to come undone. What _is_ powerful is how it is spread. But, thankfully, it's a flawed enchantment."

"Flawed?" asked Aarin.

Eltoora nodded. "The only ones that should have remembered Lesle completely were Ophala, Lord Nasher, and myself. But it seems that certain people are able to recall her more. I believe that, to an extent, she saw this coming, and prepared a counter that would allow her memory to survive. I just don't know what she did."

"Lesle… was always a careful woman," Aarin remarked, wearing the ghost of a smile. "Do you… do you really think that she's alive?" he asked. "What are the odds that someone is just masquerading, using her identity?"

"Slim to none," Ophala answered. "Even if they did then there's no way they would know enough about her. Sending Aribeth's pendant to me was something that only Lesle had both the access and a capacity to do. If she is alive, Aarin, we _will_ find her."

"Forgive me, Lady Ophala," he apologized. "But hope is something too painful for me at this time. I have no right to… as I chose Neverwinter over my love for her."

"You were coerced!" she argued.

"This is the first time I've heard of this," Eltoora cut in.

Ophala turned to her. "Aarin was ready to search for her hours after she ran off. Nasher found him and told him he was free to do so, but if he did then he would be marked as an enemy of Neverwinter."

Eltoora covered her mouth in a silent gasp. Aarin looked away, ashamed.

"I… do not have the right."

"The Hells you don't!" Eltoora stood bolt straight from her seat. She marched up to Aarin and placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, looking a sight ridiculous as she had to stand on her toes to reach them. "You ought to know how _rare_ a thing love is for people in our position! If this was some two-bit whore from the Moonstone Mask–"

Ophala coughed loudly.

"–then I wouldn't have cared," Eltoora continued, unfazed. "But Lesle was unique, and living our lives didn't change her. Even if you say you let her go, you'll never mean it. Your heart, once given, will never return until the other person throws it away. You still love her, Aarin. Lie to us if it pleases you, but for the Gods' sake, don't lie to yourself."

His smile was slow in response, as though a shadow was lifted from his face. "Thank you, ladies."

With that, he left the room.

"How _rare_ a thing love is…" Ophala snickered, mimicking Eltoora's voice. "I never had you pegged for a closet Sunite."

The wizardess blushed up to her ears. "Shut your mouth."

"Only if you take back what you said about whores in my establishment."

"Resign and there won't be any."


	21. Her Lasting Impression

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Her Lasting Impression<br>**_

Castle Never had been his home for nearly forty years now, but this was the first time that its halls felt foreign to him. Aarin Gend slowed to a halt, resting his forehead against the wall of his room.

It was more an office, than anything. An ornate bed was half buried beneath mounds of records. Every level surface had scores of maps and blueprints pinned to the wood. And there were at least thirty different writing implements, scattered all around, but none he could ever find when he actually needed them.

The Spy Master had worked tirelessly for Neverwinter, and by extension, Lord Nasher. If ever there were times when he questioned the latter's judgement, he kept it to himself and forgot all about his doubts in time.

But not now.

He sunk into his sheets, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

Lesle had left nothing when she disappeared, no letters, no trinkets; not even a strand of hair. He remembered falling asleep beside her, but when he awoke she wasn't there. It made him question what he had been dreaming that night, or perhaps if she herself was his dream.

Twenty six years ago marked the end of the Wailing Death in Neverwinter. To say that it was a complicated time for the city and its people was an understatement. By then he had already adopted it as his home, and watching it fall apart from within had crumbled the corners of his heart in a way he'd never thought possible.

He had never seen Lesle while she was working to gather the Waterdhavian creatures. It would be a month later, after the trials and sentences of Fenthick and Desther, that he would set his sights on the curious woman.

What information Aarin gleaned on her from his sources seemed to be nine parts the company she kept, and one part speculation on the woman herself. Some called her a ravishing beauty, others insisted that she was very average looking; the only constant was that she had a very good knack at getting things done.

En route to Port Llast, he was making rounds through their caravans when they'd stopped for the night. One by one he checked the wagons, ensuring nothing had shifted or been damaged during the trip.

Lesle was devouring the corner of her pillow in her sleep, drool sliding down to the very end of her chin. He wished he could have seen his own expression then. Aarin remembered that he stared, wondering if he had gotten the wrong person. A guard stopped to see what had caught his attention, took one look at her convoluted pose, and snorted.

"Aye, tha's the one." He ribbed him. "Jus' goes ta show tha' competence has no face, eh?"

When they arrived in the coastal town it was in the dark hours of early morning. It fell to him to escort the "Hero" to her room in the barracks. He called out to her, but found that she slept like the dead. Aarin cautiously pushed her shoulder, and barely contained his laughter as she snored onto her back.

When she finally awoke Lesle gave him a foul, cock-eyed glare. In her tired state, complete with glassy, film-covered eyes, her expression was a mix of annoyance, amusement, and confusion. Her hair was also cropped short, and stayed up like the ruffled feathers of a decidedly angry bird.

And then there was the drool… extending an impressive length from her mouth to the pillow on her lap.

.At a loss for words, he pointed at the building. She followed the line of his arm, to his finger, and stared blankly in the direction. She started moving just as he was about to speak. Aarin came closer to help her off the wagon, but she swatted him away like a fly.

And, sorely misjudging the distance to the ground, she landed face-first in the soil.

He felt a grin tugging violently at the corners of his mouth as he watched her fall the rest of the way, using the momentum of her ass over her head to roll onto her feet. To his amazement, she didn't swear or yell, just grumbled.

She stopped at the door, slid her hand down her breeches, and scratched her ass nonchalantly in front of him and a dozen other so men, who guffawed while valiantly attempting to give their new Hero the respect she "deserved."

He couldn't decide, from what came after, which was better. The fact that she recalled absolutely none of this, or her outrageously pissed off expression when she turned around at the laughter.

The Spy Master laughed at the ceiling; laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. She never failed to make him smile.

But then he opened his eyes and looked at the empty pillow beside him. Darkness stretched across his room when it was morning mere seconds ago. He sighed the length of the ceiling.

"A dream."

There was no other way he could have been so happy.


	22. The Worst Kind of Betrayal

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Worst Kind of Betrayal<br>**_

He saw her the next day.

Lord Nasher called the Nine forth, outlining his priotities for the next year. Ophala hid her bruises with magic. Lord Nasher was as composed at ever. Eltoora behaved disinterested. He noticed that their eyes did not meet once.

Darmon, Grayson, Nevalle and Sedos Sebile either didn't note the atmosphere or were oblivious to it. Tebriah was more of an honorary member, and so was excused from the meeting. They had yet to replace Melia, however, so there was another, more permanent, absence.

Normally his attention would have been fully set on the tasks at hand, but they seemed so menial to him now. Aarin saw Lesle's apparition flitting between the pillars of the counsel room. She regularly paused, never looking at him, but at the Lord of Neverwinter.

It was a very complicated expression. He saw the darker aspects of it, of resentment and a grain of wariness, but there was also respect in the way she looked at him, all layered atop a foundation of pity.

Even he, her so-called lover, knew little to nothing of what transpired between Lesle and Lord Nasher that caused their relationship to fall apart. It was reported to him later that she had been pursued relentlessly before she escaped. Over and over, the night before she disappeared played in his mind. She was cleaning –she had always been organized, so this seemed excessive to him. In hindsight it was so obvious that she had packed all of her belongings that night. She knew it would play out this way, and she had prepared her departure without as much as a goodbye.

"–rin. _Aarin_."

"Yes my Lord?"

Everyone in their room was looking at him now. The suspicion was clear on Lord Nasher's brow. Aarin caught him shooting a warning look at Ophala from the corner of his eyes.

"You are to report to Thundertree in the next week. I would have you secure a steady source of Zalantar, and create a permanent base of operations for a guard station."

"You mean to expand Neverwinter's influence, Lord Nasher?"

He stroked his beard, eyeing the charts and tables of the city census. "A sufficient amount of time has passed from the War of Shadows; we'd be fools not to use the opportunity to secure trade lines. I do not want us losing to Luskan in terms of sway in the North –else we will have another war on our hands, but this time we will be sorely underequipped to deal with the consequences."

Aarin bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord Nasher."

"Very good, then." He went on to address the other Nine on their tasks.

The Spy Master squeezed his eyes shut, warding against the image of Lesle. Memories ran through his vision that he hadn't thought of in years. He began to see what Eltoora said about the enchantment surrounding her name –he couldn't believe that he'd forgotten so much.

Her statuesque form that somehow suited a childish face; the way she'd draw in and pucker her lips to one side when considering heavy options; how she could charm others twice as easily as she offended them, though half as fast.

The next time Aarin was drawn from his thoughts, it was the result of the sound of a shutting door.

Lord Nasher sat directly across from him, alone; bathed in the light of sunset emanating from the oculus above their heads.

"How much do you know?"

"Not enough."

They didn't know quite what to say after that initial inquiry. Nothing registered on either face. Finally, there was a crack; the sliver of humanity on Lord Nasher's composed veneer.

"Do you despise me, Aarin?"

The Spy Master had to think on it –which surprised him, as he hadn't even considered it before.

"I… am puzzled." He leveled their gaze. "I do not understand, my Lord. In my memories you and Lesle were at least cooperative. And at the best of times, you were even… amicable."

"We had our differences, Aarin," he replied. "I saw her potential. She could have been a pillar for this city in its rise from the ashes left of it. She could have been a beacon of hope for us all." He folded his hands on his lap, and sighed. "But in the end, she was much too… wild."

"With all due respect," said Aarin, "that doesn't seem sufficient cause to have run her out."

His expression darkened. Pain, and guilt, flashed across his face. "I didn't want to tell you this, Aarin, but the truth is that she had stolen something crucial to the city."

"That can't be!"

"When people want something bad enough, they change, Aarin. You saw what happened to our citizens when they thought that nobles in Blacklake had the cure for the plague."

"What was it then?" he demanded. "I knew of nothing stolen from the treasury –nothing has been for over a hundred years."

"It wasn't _in _the treasury, and as your Lord, I am… unable to tell you what it was. Suffice to say that it could have ushered in a golden age for Neverwinter, had it been kept. And Lesle would still be here, with you." He looked at the sky through the oculus. "I didn't wish to burden you with any of this knowledge, for with a little thought, it becomes clear that her prize was more important than you were to her. Did she show even a little remorse the night before she left, Aarin? Did she bother to tell you anything of her plans?"

Aarin was at a loss for words. Lesle was… reckless, at times, but never deceitful. She was a woman that lived by her word. Lord Nasher's explanation pained him immensely, but there was a note to it that he didn't like.

"If this… item… was so crucial, then why didn't you send out search parties?"

"You and I both know that Lesle was a ranger of no small amount of skill. If she wanted to hide then we could search under every pebble on the Sword Coast and still come up empty-handed."

Again, he was lying –he knew it. Nothing betrayed Lord Nasher's composure, but Aarin knew from history that if this was something as important as he was led to believe, then Lord Nasher was the sort of man that would stop at nothing, short of death, to get it back.

"Why the enchantment, then? Why steal our memory?"

"_Because people would ask questions_!" he boomed. "Aribeth had left us to pick up our own ruins! Neverwinter had been razed to the ground! Lesle was the only shred of hope we had left, and she selfishly ran out on us when we needed her the most! How could I have let the people suffer such a loss? We didn't need another Aribeth."

"You underestimate the strength of your people, Lord Nasher. They would have recovered in time. Forgive me for saying this, but you seem afraid of her."

He could see a vein bulge on his forehead. Aarin Gend bowed his head. "But you are right. Thank you for telling me everything. Neverwinter does not need such betrayers."

"Yes…" he eased back into his seat, relaxing. "I'm glad you understand. You may go now."

Again, he bowed his head, but when the door closed this time, Ophala was waiting for him.

She held out her palm. A sentence was scrawled there.

_If you believe him, walk past me._

Aarin looked over his shoulder at the door he'd just left. His heart bristled. Lord Nasher had asked him if he despised him. He was beginning to think he did.

The Spy Master grasped her hand.

Ophala smiled.

She linked her arm through his as they walked. The beautiful woman slowed her pace once they were clear of patrolling guards, pressing her lips against his ear.

"_I've received news from Boddyknock_," she whispered. "_It seems she left a map."_

His heart thundered as it hadn't in years. Aarin began to open his mouth when Ophala pressed a finger to his lips.

"Give it time," she breathed. "We will find her."


	23. Twisted Up Inside

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

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><p><em><strong>Twisted Up Inside<br>**_

Vengaul Bloodsail was hot-air made flesh. Between his silver hair and mustache-twirling, (and affinity for loud outfits) he was irresistible company.

Once they arrived in Mirabar, Tomi made himself at home atop the crow's nest of the _Undine_, his ship. It was a thin thing, its hull crafted of a silvery wood that Tebriah didn't recognize. When water reflected light onto its surface, it appeared as though it was made of waves, gently shimmering on the horizon. In way, it acted as a foil to the flashiness of its master, who was currently playing with his compass.

"Captain Bloodsail?"

"Please, call me Vengaul," he insisted. "Care to join me for a game, Miss Tebriah?"

She seated herself across the little table, situated arms' length from the steering wheel of the ship.

"Sure."

She watched as he shuffled the deck; the cards slicing through the air as though they were an extension of the man himself. There was a twinkle to his silvery eyes that made her want to smile, and it was with this twinkle that they looked at her.

"The lady may cut the deck," he said, sliding it over to her.

Tebriah picked up half, set it down, and put the other half on top of it. "What are we playing?"

"Blackjack –an old classic," he winked. "Now I don't mean to pry –who am I kidding? I _do_ mean it, very much." He threw out a card without even looking at it. "You've been walking on this deck like a lost pup for the last several hours, my dear. What_ever_ is on your mind?"

He watched as roses flooded her cheeks. It did his heart good to see a young woman blush.

"This is going to sound so arrogant."

"Perhaps, or perhaps not," he shrugged. "If it makes it any easier then I can guarantee I'm more arrogant by far."

She placed her card on the table. "I'm used to leading the group. Technically, I suppose I am, but it doesn't feel like it."

"Ah yes…" He stroked his mustache. "Miss Mere."

"I'm almost get a headache whenever I hear her name now," she frowned. "Those three back in the cabin right now are _her _companions. Ever since we got on this ship they've been huddled together like some witches' coven. _Lesle_ this. _Lesle_ that."

Vengaul chuckled, "Jealous, are we?"

"Yes," she admitted openly. "Of them." He flicked his eyes up to see her point in the direction of the cabin, where the half-orc, halfling, and gnome were chatting the hours away. "She sounds amazing, Captain… I mean, Vengaul. She faced a plague, consorted with dragons, nymphs, and witches; traveled ten _thousand_ years back in time, and faced an army head-on."

He won the first game. Vengaul re-shuffled the deck, thinking on how to respond.

"Tebriah, love. If even the more realistic stories of you are to be believed, then you spoke to the Gods themselves, saved your soul, and battled an army of undead. Lesle's was a different adventure. You can't go comparing the two." He laughed gruffly, "Though they're both damned amazing if you want my opinion."

She smiled faintly. "You're right… but it's not the adventure that I'm comparing. It's us." Tebriah set her cards aside, leaning in the chair. Her head hung over the back, staring at the star-littered sky. "Settlements are few and very far in between in the Mere of Dead Men, Vengaul. One hundred people lived in the one I grew up in. To me, that was huge."

Tebriah pulled the tie out from her hair, letting the brown strands fly free.

"I didn't choose to become an adventurer. My life was in danger. Even if I had the chance to fight, I would have died. So I ran." She opened and closed her fists, studying the lines across the palm of her hand. "When I learned that Lesle came from the same place I did, I thought we were the same –a couple of people thrown into the current and forced to swim to keep from drowning, but she _chose_ adventure, and I feel if she was the one that went through what I did, then she'd have done it better."

When she looked at him the sailor had gone unusually quiet. He stared at the grain of the table as though it would jump out at him.

"…I met Lesle during the plague," he began. "I had the third of the reagents that they needed for the cure –was about to auction it off if it hadn't been for some ill-timed mutiny."

"Auction?" she gasped. "That's awful."

He laughed, "Aye, she said as much to me too. But I was a friend of Nasher's long before he became Lord of Neverwinter –he gave me this scar as a parting gift years ago," he said, lifting his hair and pointing at a long, jagged cut along his scalp. "And I knew that he had turned into a very different man once he assumed that mantle. I would rather have given the reagents to the public than to him."

"He isn't the kind of man to ignore his people."

"Lesle thought the same," he agreed. "But she learned the hard way down the line, just like I did." He folded his hands on the table, shaking his head at his memories. "The first time I saw her I remember thinking that she was so young. Covered in bruises and leaking blood. She was shaking, too. Her pack was too heavy in that state, and she was breathing much too hard."

Tebriah scooted closer, interested.

"Her eyes were ancient, however," he frowned. "She'd already seen so much death by then. Neverwinter was a giant mortuary. Bodies were literally being thrown out windows at the first signs of plague. People were left abandoned in the streets by their own families. Food was worth more than gold, and not even the dirtiest thief had the audacity to sell fake cures. Her eyes were hollow, Tebriah –dark and washed out, as though she'd given up everything that made her human,"

"I'm not sure you're as different as you think you are. Both of you were thrown into something bigger than yourselves, that threatened your lives and the lives of those around you. Sure, she grew powerful –faster than she knew how to handle." He flicked his hand towards the cabin. "Six companions and dozens of people that held a torch for her, and she still grew all twisted up on the inside."

"Twisted?"

He rested his chin on his hands. "From what I've learned, she experienced loss before coming to Neverwinter –a few people in her earliest days of adventuring. The attack on the Academy didn't faze her too badly either. But the scary thing about wounds to the soul is that you almost never see them happen –it just chips in place, one little act at a time. I saw her again after the whole mess was done with. She lived in Castle Never during that time,"

"From the way she moved to how she acted, anyone that's been in a war could tell that she was still in a battlefield long after the dust had settled. She was as pale as death, and looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks. The city guard and political officials disgusted her to the point where she'd wretch at the sight of them."

"What made her hate authority so much?"

Vengaul furrowed his brow, reluctant to speak of it. "All I know is that it has to deal with Aribeth, and that exactly one month after her death, Lesle disappeared."


	24. Modus Operandi

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

****To the Readers**: _Thank You for enjoying the story thus far; I hope I can draw out the mystery without drawing too sharply on your patience. Also, to those that took the time to review, you have my thanks. There is nothing more encouraging than seeing feedback, whether it's criticism or praise. I take the time to thank you for that bit of effort to tell me your opinion. I hope that the story I have in mind will live up to your_ _expectations_.******

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><p><em><strong>Modus Operandi<br>**_

The _Undine_ reached Luskan by early morning. Tebriah raised her head from the table and hissed at the light.

"_How did we get here so fast_?" she grumbled.

Vengaul threw her a couple of scrolls tucked away in his pockets. She squinted at the elegantly scrawled ink, her mind slowly translating the elvish text.

"Water elementals!" She found enough energy to rush to the side of the boat and look over the edge. Though she'd never noticed it otherwise, now she could spot the faint outline of an arm, pushing the craft through the waves. "Damn, but that's clever," she smirked.

From the steering wheel, Vengaul tipped the front of his tricorne. He looked so ridiculous and gallant at the same time that she snorted before she could stop herself.

The other three passengers joined them shortly, eyeing the city walls with no small measure of apprehension. Tebriah, remembering the things Sand said about this place, found their reactions well-warranted.

"Tebriah, love," said Vengaul, handing her a veiled hat. "I strongly recommend you put this on."

She took it in her hands. "Why?"

Boddyknock bounded to her side. "Because you are a Neverwinter Nine, and a Hero of Luskan's most hated city. If no one else knows of you in the Realms, you can be sure that you are infamous here."

"Good point." She took the hat and placed it securely on her head, pulling the thick black lace over her eyes and nose.

There was a small harbor along the river; smaller than the one out to sea, she imagined. Here, fishermen and small-time merchants eyed their craft with looks ranging from interest to annoyance. It wasn't so different from Neverwinter, she thought –besides being markedly grittier.

Once they came close enough, a portly man hobbled up the deck, waving his cane at them.

"Unless you have a pass, you can't dock here!"

They moored the _Undine_ either way. Boddyknock lifted his hat and produced two sheets of paper, handing them over to the old man. He took them with a snappish flick of his wrist, adjusting his monocle to the font.

"Hmn…" He looked up from the documents. "I'll have to verify this… looks fishy to me."

"No more than your breath," Tomi said aside.

Daelan nudged his way to the front. The old dockmaster slowly raised his head to get a look at his face, towering high above his own.

"There will _not_ be any problem," the half-orc said smoothly. "We leave in twenty-four hours."

"And don't even think about laying a finger on my ship, Oboros," added Vengaul. "I won't be leaving the deck; and I assure you it's well defended against your inspector brutes."

He sniffed derisively at the Captain. "Twenty-four hours, and not a second more."

"I expect you to produce a pass for us through the main harbor within the next twelve."

"Sixteen."

"Thirteen."

"Fourteen."

Vengaul's mustache curled up beneath his smirk. "I believe we have an agreement, then. Pleasure as always."

"Go suck a banshee's teet." Oboros made a vulgar gesture, hobbling back to whatever miserable hole he came from. Vengaul took this in stride, completely unfazed.

"Tebriah, love, I doubt Oboros will allow us to stay the full day," he warned. "I suggest you take care of business, because once he comes back he'll have his _inspectors_ with him to bid us farewell."

"Run of the mill guttersnipe," Tomi snorted. "We're definitely in the right place, a'ight."

Daelan nodded at their Captain. "Our business shouldn't take more than six hours. We'll be back by sundown at latest."

"If you like," Boddyknock offered, "one of us could remain here if you feel it's necessary."

"Come, come now!" Vengaul boomed, spreading his arms wide. "This is Vengaul Bloodsail, swashbuckler extraordinaire with _flair_. I've had hangnails more troublesome than Luskans."

Tebriah covered her mouth, laughing silently.

They disembarked and headed towards land. Tebriah gagged on reflex at the stench that came to greet them. The busy hub of Luskan made Neverwinter's back alleys seem like a rose garden by comparison. Daelan straightened his shoulders, taking point of the group. She noticed that this had the effect of causing others to scuttle backwards on their approach. Tomi raked his hair downwards, obscuring the better half of his face, and Boddyknock seemed to recede into the rim of his hat.

Tebriah felt remarkably secure in the center of their group. It was only for the first second that she balked at the idea of being protected, but then she took a moment to consider it from an onlooker's perspective.

They were an odd assortment, to be sure, but with Tomi passed as a shady knife for hire, and Boddyknock was clearly a mage of means with his scarlet robes. Daelan took the front of their muscle, and that automatically gave Tebriah the appearance of a woman of standing that no one would mess with without damned good reason.

If Khelgar had been here she knew that he'd run off to punch the first man that looked at him the wrong way. Neeshka would likely get distracted, and Sand would be hard pressed to enter the city to begin with. Tebriah considered herself and her companions to be professionals, but her current company put her friends to shame.

These men hadn't seen one another in years, and yet they fell into perfect formation, knowing and playing off the others' strengths and weaknesses without a word of strategy between them. Alone, she felt that she could face any one of them, but together she knew that she didn't stand a chance.

This was what truly seasoned adventurers looked like. Tebriah realized that she had much to learn.

"The Wink and Tinkle?" Daelan asked under his breath.

The gnome in their party gave a curt nod. Almost immediately they made a sharp left. A building on an island surrounded by man-made canals stood directly before them. It was a modest establishment, but its cleanliness and upkeep made it stand out from its surroundings. Tebriah was relieved at the fresh scent of bread and lavender the moment they crossed its threshold.

Tomi took her by the hand, pulling her to the side. "The gnome rented the Captain Suite. Follow quickly, and keep an eye on your purse strings."

Daelan stayed behind to keep an eye on Boddyknock's back as he went to speak at the front desk. Tebriah allowed herself to trust Tomi as he guided her up the stairs.

The second floor was immaculate compared to the first. It also seemed more exclusive. Better dressed, and higher standing, people filled the space in clusters. Stained glass screens sectioned off the main area, where groups could chat at tables in relative seclusion. Beyond them were well-hidden doors, each with locks that cost a small fortune to produce.

"You'll have time to doe-eye the sights later," he pressed, trying to get to their area with some urgency. "It's right there, down this hall."

There was only one door down the hall they were currently in, with a gold plated lock. Tomi pressed his hand against the wood, and it opened without further prompting. As she passed through, Tebriah sensed a powerful manner of ward on it, and guessed that it permitted access to its current guests. How it recognized them was an entirely different matter, and left her impressed to say the least.

Glass sconces lined the walls, casting the entire room in a warm glow. Tebriah couldn't help but notice that the rug covering the floor was simply enormous. She recognized the pattern to be of Rashemi origin, and tapestries in that part of Faerun were considered family heirlooms. The one they stood on must have cost a fortune, as it was so big that only a village could have made it.

Bookshelves lined an entire wall, and a large goose-feather bed stood opposite of it, surrounded by candles. The Captain's Suite contained more grandeur than the royal chambers of a small kingdom, and Tebriah found herself wilting at what such a place would cost for an hour, let alone a night.

"Arto, Gregor," Tomi called. "Show yourselves will ya? The gnome'll be up as soon as he's done yacking with Bela."

The air on the couches before the great fireplace shimmered, revealing two human men. One had the appearance of a hardened warrior, yet wore the clothes of a journeyman. The other dressed like a hedge wizard, but Tebriah could sense a great deal more power than his appearance suggested.

"Who's the girl?" asked the warrior, looking at her directly.

"Tebriah," she replied. "Of Merdelain."

The wizard took a sharp intake of breath. "You brought a Hero of Neverwinter into Luskan?" He addressed Tomi, glaring almost violently. Tebriah had a feeling that he and Sand would be the best of friends. "Are you trying to get us drawn and quartered?"

"Oye, she can handle her own." She gawked a bit at the halfling coming to her defense. "Hasn't shown an opening I can filch from since the start of this." Any bit of flattery she felt was now gone.

The man named Gregor allowed himself a small smirk, and Arto leaned back into the seat like a panther.

Shortly thereafter, Boddyknock and Daelan came to join them.

The gnome approached them easily. He whisked his wrist at a chair behind him, and it slid across the carpet in place for him to sit. Tomi helped himself to the refreshments on the table at the back of the room, but kept his ears wide open for the conversation. Tebriah took the opportunity to lean into Daelan, asking under her breath,

"Who are these men?"

"Gregor Armiste was a militia member we met upon entering Luskan. He's considered a local hero for keeping the streets free of wererats and fighting when he sees it. An honorable man," he added with evident respect. "Arto Webber is… or was… a Red Wizard of Thay. He equipped us well to dispose of the Host Tower's treachery, and according to what I've heard, Boddyknock has formed a rapport with him over the years."

"Alright, then why are they _here_?"

"This is what we're here to discover," he whispered back, then made it clear that it wasn't time to say anything more on the subject.

Tomi set a tray of ale down in front of them. "Not poisoned," he chirped. "I'd smell it if it were."

The other men took that as an opportunity to take up the glasses, cradling the mugs on their laps.

"I fear that our time in Luskan is rather limited," began the gnome. "Please speak freely. I can assure you that no one here would cause you harm in any way."

Arto said nothing, but nodded at Gregor. The sturdy man shifted his weight, bringing out an unassuming sack. He drew out two items, and set them on the table.

The first was a smooth rock, no bigger than the size of Tebriah's fist. Its only unique features were the weathered golden cord tied around it, and the symbol of Tyr etched into its surface.

The other, more grisly article, was the petrified skull of what looked to be a small deer. It was small as well, likely belonging to a newborn, and encased in amber. Dark brown beads gave off a coppery scent, and it came as a morbid revelation that it was likely very old congealed blood.

"A stone of recall," said the sorcerer. "…and Grimgnaw's amulet."

"Son of a monkey's uncle," Tomi breathed. "He died?"

Tebriah knew instantly that this Grimgnaw was one of the companions they were out to find, but was startled that no one in the room seemed very distressed by the news after the initial shock.

"The monk returned to Luskan shortly after Lesle's disappearance," Arto explained. "He was a vigilante to the public for a time, slaughtering trouble making fools at night."

"He caught the attention of the authorities?" she asked.

Gregor snorted. "The trouble making fools _were_ the authorities. No, lassie. He caught the eye of people much more sinister."

"The Host Tower," Arto continued. "He put up quite a fight as I recall. It was just outside my shop. It took an entire squad of mages to incapacitate him. He'd kept my street free of pickpockets for a time, so I felt that I owed him to see his fate, in the event one of his companions came to ask."

Again the room was uncomfortably quiet. It was now clear to Tebriah that there was no love lost at this companion's demise.

"The psychopath had it coming," was Tomi's response, and seemed to be the unspoken consensus of everyone present.

Arto cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I entered the Tower under pretense that I was there to trade some knowledge regarding reanimation rituals. I was invited to watch one as a… demonstration," he muttered sourly. "Grimgnaw was one of those subjects, yet curiously he did not put up an outward fight. Then there was the hand of a lich by the name of Belpheron, the skeleton of a certain Minotaur that gave Lord Nasher a bit of grief, and a maimed lady assassin. All, I feel I should add, were members of the Order of the Long Death."

Everyone noticeably wilted at the name. Tebriah had heard of the Order, but never actually saw one of their members. It was now evident why no one seemed to care much for this Grimgnaw character.

"This was a… sacrifice, of sorts. Gain demonic power in order to bring a great many into the Embrace of the Silent Lord, as it were. One minute they were there, and after the ritual commenced, your companion was bleeding quite profusely on the floor."

Daelan made a sound of disgust. "Fool."

"Even I have to agree on that one," Tomi added with a scowl. "Never liked the bloke, but demons? We fought 'em. Bastard should have known better."

"Then how did you acquire the amulet?" Boddyknock asked, focused on the items before him.

"I found it," Gregor pointed at the trinket. "At the time I was regularly visiting the Host Tower's… scrap dump… giving whatever remains surfaced a proper burial. I found this still in his hand… the only part left of him after they were through."

"Gods," Tebriah gasped. "That's barbaric."

"Anything in the name of knowledge," Arto repeated a snippet of their dogma. "Even wizards of Thay have more morals."

"I have never met a Red Wizard that didn't temper passion with wisdom," Tebriah interjected. "It's the region they live in that brands them as monsters. They're true scholars. It's not as if they chose to be surrounded by superstition."

Everyone regarded her with a bit of surprise at the sudden outburst. Arto himself blinked at the sudden defense of his kind. His smile came to him as an unexpected shock, and his severe looks suddenly became handsome in an offhanded way.

"You honor us more than you know."

She blushed off to the side. Tomi gave her a slap on the back that translated to a job well done.

"That still doesn't explain the stone of recall," Boddyknock pressed on. "Lesle had only one in her possession."

"There were two stones," said Gregor. "Lesle found the second on the body of Aarin Gend's spy, sent to look after the Lady Aribeth… though we were not aware of it, until Lesle herself gave it to me for safe keeping."

The silence was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife.

"Of course," Gregor went on, "I did not know that she had disappeared until Boddyknock informed Arto of his quest, and he, in turn, notified me. In the place of a timeline, she went straight to Luskan after fleeing Neverwinter."

"What did she say or do while she was here?" Daelan asked.

"Well I found her wretching all over my garden. She looked dreadfully ill." Gregor paused, scraping his memory. "I seriously thought she was poisoned. Must've given her a pitcher of water before her stomach settled. I guess she ate something bad."

"The stone," Arto coughed.

"Ah, yes, that… She gave me the stone. Didn't say what it was, just told me that if anyone came looking for her in the future, she had a feeling they might need it. She gave me a one-word instruction. _Immersion_. Does that mean anything to you?"

The people in the room exchanged looks, but nothing came up.

"Well, that's it then."

Arto nodded. "We've done what we came here to do. I pray it wasn't a waste of your time."

"You've been of more help than you realize," Boddyknock affirmed. "Thanks to the both of you, and farewell."

The gnome carefully placed the objects in his sash, breathing deeply. "Another item, and a key of sorts. At least now we know that Lesle's disappearance was most definitely premeditated."

"But why would she go to such lengths to hide from Lord Nasher?" Daelan voiced aloud. "She's committed no crime."

"Neither did Fenthick, or did ya forget?" Tomi reminded him. "The point is that she knew we'd try to find her, and this proves that she wants us to, at least. It feels like we've all been left with a different part of the same story."

Tebriah mulled it over. "Tomi saw her get run out from Castle Never. Daelan was there when she transmuted a fake corpse. Boddyknock was left with the least information… probably to tie things together from an unbiased view." The bard crossed her arms. "She knew your strengths like the back of her hand. I think she might have even set you up to be at the right place at the right time in the days leading up to her escape. Honestly… she sounds a bit terrifying."

The men didn't disagree with her analysis. Daelan let out a long breath.

"Lesle was methodical… almost excessively so. She kept lists and journals, and between Tomi and Sharwyn, enough stories and records to conceive almost any puzzle imaginable."

"Loved riddles," the rogue added. "Loved heists and mysteries. This sounds exactly like something she'd do."

"Which means she's alive," the gnome concluded. "And she's out there, waiting for us to find her."


	25. Tomb of The Twin Souled

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tomb of The Twin Souled<br>**_

_I've been informed that they ought to reach Athkatla by the time you read this missive. Thank you for providing the seal necessary for them to access the domain of the Council of Six. Apart from the stone and amulet finding, there is nothing new to report._

_On the home front, Ophala and I are doing everything in our power to convince Lord Nasher that we've dropped the issue. I cannot say for certain what goes on in that man's head, but he has given us room to breathe in the past month._

_I realize that this may not be enough to satisfy you, but with what has already been uncovered, there is no reason to assume anything other than she is alive._

_Have faith._

_~ E.S._

Aarin sighed, tossing the letter into the fire.

The rational part of his mind knew that Lesle had been missing for over twenty years now, but after he'd been presented with the possibility of finding her, alive no less, he found it difficult to wait any further.

The Spy Master grabbed his cloak off the table, swinging it over his shoulders. A good stiff autumn wind was just what he needed to refocus.

Aarin Gend surveyed the building's outside as soon as he left the front door. It was of sturdy construction, made of fine wood and simple grain. Its guards consisted of Thundertree militia and his agents from Neverwinter, and they were currently at work discussing Zalantar harvesting with the local contractors on the lawn.

He took that as his opportunity to pass by undetected, blending into a gaggle of people in the market across the way.

Thundertree was much as its name implied; a sizeable village surrounded by dense woodland. Its people wore warm, simple garments. It didn't scream opulence, but it was evident that its people cared well for one another. Aarin new that part of the reason Lord Nasher sent him here was to keep him from investigating the Lesle Mere situation, and he felt some resentment for that.

But Aarin couldn't be entirely angry with his liege. Getting out of Neverwinter and putting his nose to a new project seemed to be exactly what he needed to breathe again. How strange that he didn't realize he'd been suffocated until he had the chance to expand his lungs.

The Spy Master took silent note of the boys and girls in the village. They were better dressed than usual, with many of the lasses sporting braids and woven flowers in their hair. He paused by the father of one such pair of children, warning them to keep their clothes clean or else he'd box their ears when they returned home.

"Excuse me," he said softly, grabbing his attention. "Is today a special occasion?"

The man looked him over, but did his best not to stare out of politeness. "Clearly not a local, then," he smirked at Aarin's exotic appearance. "A little pilgrimage is all. The young'ins head off to the Tomb of the Twin Souled every harvest season. Drop off some flowers, dried fruits… things like that."

"Tomb of the Twin Souled?"

"Aye." He pointed down a dirt path, whose only real marking was a handful of cobbled stones at its entrance. "You'll find it in the valley below. Years ago, back when I was a boy, a woman came through and started a right fuss. Hired out every grown man in the village to build a tomb. Must've been a priestess or magician of some kind, because once it was finished anyone that worked on it forgot the details of how it was made."

Aarin's ears perked up with interest. "Did she cause harm in any way?"

"Nay, sir. Just walked in there, and came out after a night and day. I and half the children from town were in the shrubs, just watching. Couldn't see her face none, but she picked some flowers and laid them at the foot of the place. Just then a breeze passed through, warm like a mother's kiss, and dogwood petals rained down from the trees on her head. Right magical sight that was." His eyes gleamed bright at the memory. "She caught sight of us and smiled a bit, and asked if we'd keep an eye on her friend. Can't says no to a lady with a golden heart, so we did just that. Somehow or other, a tradition was made."

Aarin Gend offered him a polite smile and a tilt of his head, deciding that he would like to visit this Tomb himself.

The entrance to the dirt path was ominous at first. Thick branches barred the way, but the children saw no problem with bending them or climbing beneath. He caught one such branch as it was about to swat him in the face, chuckling under his breath at their eagerness to move forward.

As he progressed, the path grew lighter, with patches of sun leading the way.

The valley stretched out at the mouth of the woods, and he paused as little ones darted around him, lost for words at the view.

Burning red and smoldering burgundy leaves surrounded this place. It was small, with its focal point being a slivering canal at the heart of the canyon. The evening sun gilded this world in its golden glow, limning the trees and bushes in soft, fiery light.

Fireflies were thick in the air, and glimmered like stars as he moved down the side of the rolling hills, after the children with arms filled with flowers.

He came to the stream at the heart of the valley, and crossed a wooden bridge into an indentation in the land. There was no other way to see this grove, since it was sunken into the hillside, and surrounded by dogwood trees as the man had described to him.

The Tomb of the Twin Souled was a simple square structure, and resembled a simple mausoleum from Neverwinter's own cemetery. Its exterior was made from gray quartz, and shimmered from the candles surrounding its entrance. Its only other decorative quality were the two stained glass windows on either side of the cherry wood door. One depicted a woman drowning in fire, and the other was her sitting on a bed of flowers, gazing at the sun.

The children dropped their bouquets on either side of the door before clustering around an older group of youths holding candles. Aarin caught snippets of their conversation, in which they told stories of who they thought the woman could be.

Some called her a martyr, or a sister to the one that commissioned the Tomb's construction, or a simply a devoted friend.

Aarin Gend sat at the door to the monument, and watched in a daze as dusk turned to night, and the children left to return to their parents, holding pale candlesticks among the fireflies.

His curiosity got the better of him, and the Spy Master reached for the door, stunned to find it unlocked.

The moonlight from the outside poured into the hallways. Stones that had been polished like mirrors were embedded in the walls, and they reflected the light off of one another, covering its halls in flecks of moon beams.

Aarin Gend marveled that there was such a place in Thundertree. He continued down the stairs, and gaped at the two banners on both sides of the archway before him.

They were banners of Neverwinter, an archaic design that had been altered shortly after the War with Luskan.

The room beyond was covered in flowers, each lovingly tended to be at their utmost form. And finally, directly opposite of him in a tiny alcove, he saw a statue of Tyr, with Torm and Ilmater at his left and right hands.

These allied goodly gods formed the Triad, and were commonly found overlooking those of noble birth or standing. Aarin Gend approached, revealing a sunken portion of floor made of glass.

And there, in ageless glory, he saw Aribeth de'Tylmarande.

The elven paladin was exactly as he remembered her, but in place of her armor, she wore a simple gray robe. Whoever laid her to rest made certain to return her bastard sword. It now rested across her body, with her hands folded over its hilt and pommel.

A flurry of emotion rained in his heart. There was helplessness, that he could do nothing to aid her in the past, and a sense of guilt since he was so blinded by his duty. He'd thought her foolish once, for betraying her city and Lord for a man, and yet he'd almost done the same when Lesle disappeared from his life.

He trembled in silence, kneeling on the glass floor with a hand stretched out towards her face. He would say sorry a thousand times if only he were able.

"_Don't fret, old friend._"

He felt a firm breeze on his shoulder. Aarin Gend raised his head, and wondered if he'd gone mad. Though diaphanous in form, Aribeth stood in front of him, with a smile that made relief spread through his tired soul.

"You cannot be real."

She laughed through her nose. "_I am as real as Tyr permits me to be. I see you've found me_," she added with a note of humor, eyeing her body in the glass. "_I've certainly looked better._"

He blinked. His heart knew without a doubt that this was Aribeth, the same one he knew and worked with for many years, but his mind had trouble registering it as truth. She saw his conflict on his brow, and nodded before starting an explanation.

"_After my execution, my spirit was cast away to Cania. It was there that I began a long penance to atone for my crimes. With the aid of some very brave souls, I redeemed myself in the eyes of Tyr, and found a home at his side._" She watched him relax, glad at the news. "_I was just as surprised as you were, my friend, that my body had been properly laid to rest._"

"I thought you were thrown off a cliff."

"_As did I._" Her eyes softened. "_Look at the palm of Tyr's hand, Aarin._"

He did as she asked, and found a silver ring in his outstretched hand. He recognized it as one of Lesle's personal effects. He now knew without a doubt that she was the one that had commissioned the Tomb for their friend.

"_It was once mine,_" she added quietly. "_Lesle had purchased it off a child in Helm's Hold while searching for Desther… and Fenthick. It was a remainder of my earliest years when I grew up in Thundertree._"

More and more sense was being made. Aarin looked at the spectre. "That explains why she had it built here."

"_Thundertree?_" she asked, surprised. "_Truly?_"

"Have you never gone outside to look?"

"_Truth be told, I was afraid to. I don't know what I'd do if I found myself surrounded by a neglected wasteland._"

"Then come with me, to the entrance at least."

The spirit of the elven paladin shifted warily, but followed his passage. Aarin heard her take a sharp intake of breath.

Her spectral form shimmered like a cloud of gem dust. She gazed on the amber hills and scarlet valley, at a loss for words.

"_This… was once the heart of the village… it had been moved to a more defensible position after orcs came from the high hills and slaughtered everyone._" Her eyes softened as she ran her hands through the piles of flowers the children had brought. "_This place was once a sea of ash and fire… I doubted it would ever heal, and yet… it's beautiful, Aarin. Beyond anything I could have imagined._"

He took the time to explain the story of how Lesle had the tomb built. At the end Aribeth smiled so genuinely that he felt the air around her grow warm.

"_Would that I knew what I had done, to deserve a woman such as her as my friend. How is she?"_

She blinked at the pained expression that tore across his face. With evident difficulty, Aarin described the events that occurred over twenty years ago, and the search for the woman that had disappeared in time. When he finished, she rested a hand on his shoulder in deepest sympathy.

"_She is not dead, my friend. That I say with certainty… yet strangely, she is not on the Material Plane either. I sense fragments of her, like echoes from the past, she is both nowhere and everywhere._"

"That makes no sense!"

"_To you or to myself_," she agreed. "_It is simply what knowledge Tyr has bestowed upon me. She has come a long way from the little girl I once knew._"

He pushed his anxiety aside, focusing on that last sentence. "I never learned how it was that the two of you met. Would you do me the honor of sharing that story?"

The paladin nodded gracefully.

"_It was in the shadow of the Sword Mountains. I was in the earliest stages of my training to become a paladin alongside my fellow men-at-arms. She was a sliver of a woman, scarcely more than a girl then. And she had warned us when our simple patrol was about to get ambushed by an orc scouting party,_"

"_Her archery was far from perfect then, but there was a level of resilience in how she shot that caught my eye. I nearly had my head lobbed off, by the way,_" she felt she should add. "_It goes to show how green I was that I would get distracted during battle."_

"And that was it?" he asked. "How did you know how to reach her when you were recruiting students for the Academy?"

"_I didn't_," she answered. The simplicity of the response left him dumbfounded. "_In fact, I didn't think of her again until I received that duty, but by then it was years later. I recall writing dozens of letters, spreading the word to local towns and villages to be announced by their criers. I assumed she must have been in one when she heard the call. All I know was that it was answered._"

"You never spoke of it?"

"_Why should we?_" she queried. "_She came to our aid, Aarin, when we needed it most. I cared not of what she did before then, only that I was grateful for the here and now… as were you. The past is ever inconsequential until we lose something dear to us. The best any of us can do is retrace our footsteps._"

"Then do you have any advice you can give?" He looked on her in earnest. "I know you cared for her, Aribeth, as much as I did, in your own way."

At this the phantom gave serious pause.

"_Take my ring, Aarin. You say that the other companions have articles of their own. Perhaps Lesle left it here for a reason other than marking her role in building my tomb, or perhaps it is nothing. All I know is that once this day is over, it will be sealed again, and not to be opened until this time next year,_"

"_As for any other words I can give you… hmm… seek out the ones carrying the quest. Meet them at a crossroads in the journey, where their path coincides with your own. Give them my ring, Aarin. If it aids them then all is well, and if not, then no love is lost on a piece of silver. Above all take heart, my friend. If I know anything it is that Lesle would not part with you unless the world itself was crashing on her shoulders. I was there when you were falling in love, though I highly doubt you noticed._"

He had the decency to blush at the jab, causing the spirit to laugh at him.


	26. A Family Affair

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>A Family Affair<br>**_

Tebriah cast off another layer of clothing, lying flat on her back on the _Undine's_ deck. She heard a whistle from above, and squinted to see Tomi with a spyglass grinning down at her.

"One more bit o' linen and we'll have ourselves a _fine_ view now!"

She felt her chest rise and fall with laughter, but said nothing. She'd just be glad when they were out from under the sun, and in cool shade. Sooner, rather than later.

A giant shadow loomed over her, and she was relieved at the lack of light. Daelan held out a hand, which she took, and hauled her to her feet.

"Mm… what is it?" she asked, stretching her stiff limbs.

He held out a bundle of fabric. She cringed at the amount of layers. "We are nearly at the docks, Tebriah. Vengaul has expressed that it would be wise of you to don this garb."

She was beginning to think that Vengaul kept an entire costume wardrobe hidden on the boat just for all the different places he's visited. She pulled the clothing over her head, shocked at the light coolness. If only they had such fine textiles in the Mere! She dreaded summer in the swamp for the humidity. Rare were the days when she'd last until sundown, not completely drenched in her own sweat out from under coarse wool tunics.

"Look," he said. "We've reached Athkatla."

She didn't think that it was possible to build a city bigger than Neverwinter, but she was looking directly at one. Soaring sun-soaked walls greeted them as the _Undine_ entered port. The buildings varied from marble slat exteriors, stone, and brick, all the way to leaded glass and sunbaked earth. Unlike Luskan, whose chaos was obnoxious at best, the capital of Amn made it somehow glamorous.

Everyone had a unique style, with the only similarity being the light-weight fabric on their backs to fend off the heat.

In her mind it was early autumn, and the North was feeling every gust of wind like a knife to its bones.

"Not quite Calimport," said Tomi, sliding down the rafters. "But good enough for an enterprising rogue."

"Unless your connections have something to do with this quest, I won't tolerate any trouble in the group," Daelan warned him.

"Hey, relax, would ya? I won't do nothing… long as we get to Sharwyn quick that is."

"What sort of person is Sharwyn anyway?" asked Tebriah, curious. Over the course of their voyage she'd only gleaned that she was a bard, like her, and originated from Neverwinter. And if she made it all the way to Athkatla, then it must've meant that she was damned good at what she did.

"A prude!" Tomi yelled.

The others ignored him.

Tebriah turned to Daelan for a reasonable assessment.

"I cannot say anything on the woman she is today, but she was young and well-traveled when we'd first met her in Neverwinter. She earned her keep and two square meals a day by playing at the Trade of Blades, where I, Boddyknock, Grimgnaw and Linu could be found. She spoke little to other people when her performances were over, and frequently receded into her room, not to reappear until the next show."

"Sounds quite… antisocial."

"Prudent, I would say," he countered. "The Trade of Blades was a house of mercenaries, an already rough place for any woman to be in, and as far as these men were concerned, she was a pretty local girl. What they didn't know was that she'd suffered her fair share of grief by then, and while Sharwyn was many things, naïve was not one of them."

"So she was a quiet, wise type?"

"Hardly," the half-orc snorted. "She was possessed of a fiery personality, always quick to prove her worth. Like Tomi and Lesle, she knew her way around a lock, and had quite the varied skill set. And she had a habit of studying people, imitating them –to use for later performances, or so she claimed."

"Why do I get the feeling that she and Lesle got along _really_ well?"

"They did… as rivals."

Before she could ask anything else Vengaul bounded up to them with Boddyknock in tow.

"Just took care of the arrangements. We have a week, just to be safe," the Captain announced. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some friends to go visit. Find me below deck after sundown if you need anything, now ta-ta!"

The sorcerer coughed, drawing their attention. He produced a letter with a wax seal from his pocket. "This letter will grant us a one-time entrance into the palace of the Council of Six. If we are to find Sharwyn, then it will have to be within twelve hours."

"Great, how big is the palace?"

"It has over one thousand rooms."

Tebriah's jaw dropped to the floor.

Daelan placed a hand on her shoulder. "She's a frequent star during their banquets. Finding her is a simpler task than you might believe."

"But first, my dear mates, we need to look the part!" Tomi winked. "And lucky for you, I know just the place."

They gave one another disgruntled looks as the halfling ushered them through the crowd.

It took a moment for them to realize that they were in fact, in sprawling outdoors marketplace. Daelan coughed and turned away at the scantily clad dancing girls calling out to potential wealthy patrons. Boddyknock scowled at a group of men attempting to sell young boys as house cleaners –or so they were advertised.

Tebriah's knowledge of the southern part of Faerun was superficial, at best, but she recognized this area as Waukeen's Promenade –the largest outdoor bazaar on the continent, and avid rival of the shopping conglomerate in Waterdeep.

The capital of Amn was a pilgrimage site to followers of the Lady of Coin for this very reason. Public displays of lewdness, slavery, and nearly every form of indulgence were legal here, and if it wasn't, then it was laughably enforced.

Money was the language of the people around them, and either lucky or not, they each had quite a bit of it.

A round man with a full beard and bright turban seemed to know this exceedingly well upon spotting Tomi's approach. He cast appreciative glances at their adventuring gear beneath their light robes, and nodded them inside his shop while shooing out all other customers.

"Ah, if it isn't Mister Grin." He welcomed them warmly. "I see you've brought many guests with you."

"Nice to see ya too, Galdiir." The rouge motioned to the entourage behind him, doing their utmost not to gawk at the interior of the shop, like tent with over a million different colors, with incense disks swinging from the ceiling, making them feel a little too at ease. "We've got ourselves a meeting with some people up the grapevine."

"Yes, yes," Galdiir crooned, "You wish to look… spectacular!"

"We wish to look Amnian," Boddyknock corrected, for which Tomi elbowed him hard at the side.

"The best ya've got!" he cut above him, for which the merchant cast a brilliant smile.

He took an eyeball's assessment of their sizes, returning with a small selection of items for the men in the group to try out. Then finally, he looked upon Tebriah.

Galdiir's eyes softened as he pressed his fingers together. "Ah, the lady." The way he said it made Tebriah think he was extraordinarily popular with female clients –gentle, respectful, with a note of reverence.

"Come," he said, "Let me see your face."

Tebriah removed the robe covering her underclothes altogether. She felt safe enough with a short blade at her side, with the added security that her real gear was locked away on the _Undine_.

Galdiir took into account her rich tan and vibrant brown hair, standing in stark contrast to her translucent green eyes.

"A rare flower deserves exquisite petals," he beamed, and took her to a tiny alcove filled with mirrors. Galdiir pulled a gown from a high shelf, and draped it over her form. It was transparent, causing her to balk at first, but once against her body it was just thick enough to shield her bare skin from other eyes.

The color was a warm, crackling brown and beige that made her think of an autumn fire, fading into a gorgeous spectrum of pure and brilliant green. Galdiir proceeded to pin topaz butterflies into her hair, bringing out its deeper layer of color, and finally sat her down to apply exotic powders to her face.

"I grew up with seven sisters," he said as he worked. "Each the most beautiful of the province they married into. We were poor as children, but their looks were treasures in themselves."

She did her utmost not to twitch as he lined her eyes with khol.

"Women are nature's finest chameleons. They can tear asunder the walls of a man's heart with tear-filled eyes, or steal souls away with a kiss. In the right attire, they are jewels befitting of a pasha's court, and with the right cosmetics, become symbols of entire countries. My sisters taught me that."

He pulled away, swiveling her towards a mirror. Tebriah opened her eyes to find a stranger staring back at her. Gold and orange powder swept across her lids, the khol intensifying her eyes to a piercing gaze that was almost painful to stand.

Shimmering powder brought another dimension to her tan complexion, and the jewels in her hair found balance with her otherwise simple gown.

Galdiir smiled warmly at her reaction. "Never forget that a woman's charm can be increased by the clothes she wears and the jewels that adorn her, but its source comes from her heart."

At that time the other companions walked through the curtains, and gawked in such a way that made her blush fiercely beneath her painted face.

"Is… this too much?"

Tomi approached first and hopped on a stool, taking her hand and spinning her in a complete circle.

"Naw… this'll do. This'll do fine indeed."

He must have been truly pleased, because he didn't even think about threatening or haggling with the merchant. Instead, he gave him a small king's ransom, and quietly turned the lead over to Boddyknock, who led them to the court of the Council of Six.

What awaited them was a palace covered in brilliant white marble slates. Boddyknock merely flashed their pass at the door, and one look at the well-dressed party was enough for the guards to part for them. Tebriah couldn't help but feel the eyes of the crowd on her. She was used to it on a stage, but not in day to day practice. It left her fidgeting to the point where the halfling chuckled under his breath and took her hand in his. Daelan, likewise, hovered close to her side. Again she felt protected, but this time the thought of fighting the sensation didn't even occur to her.

The sound of exotic instruments filled the central hall, with crystal chandeliers so large that it felt as though a sea of glass was dancing above their heads.

Boddyknock pointed through the sea of people at a central dais as the sound of a voice echoed through the hall.

It was so lovely that tears sprang to Tebriah's eyes before she could stop herself or even know why they were there. It registered seconds later that it was a love story of elvish origin, of a man that sought the meaning of the truest affection and spent his years away from his home, wife, and children, gaining tokens for Henali Cenali –fey goddess of love.

She wasn't the only one affected. Even the logical brain of their party wiped his eyes, fighting it with all his rational might.

"This was the song Lesle had found for her," Daelan whispered, almost out of breath. "In the Creator Ruins, ten thousand years back in time."

When the song came to its last note, it was silent for almost an entire minute after.

Then the room erupted into deafening applause.

They used this chance to rush closer, and Tebriah spotted the woman called Sharwyn.

According to time, she was into her forties, but seemed remarkably well preserved. In terms of appearance she could pass as her sister, and the way the woman carried herself meant that she knew it.

Vibrant red hair hung well to her hips in billowing waves, made even more impressive against the simple beige dress that dangled over a single shoulder. Tebriah would have believed it if she was the avatar of Sune, or even the goddess herself.

Sharwyn scanned over her fans like a hawk, her bearing that of a queen no matter how one looked at her. She wore the simplest clothes of any lady in the room, and yet her presence made her a thousand times more evident.

Finally, she cast her eyes on their group, and for the barest instant there was genuine surprise in them. Tebriah caught the quick flick of her wrist down one of the many halls, and they soon left in the same direction.

It would take minutes before she arrived to see them behind the veil, but when she did appear she was smiling radiantly. Tebriah had no inclination towards women in the romantic sense, but it made her weak in the knees.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she laughed. Even her normal voice was a rich, velvety sound. "I couldn't believe my eyes!"

"Ya haven't aged a day," said Tomi, grinning widely.

"Oh _stop it_."

"You are as lovely as ever," Daelan agreed.

"I concede," Boddyknock added. "You know I would not if it weren't true."

Sharwyn thrived on the compliments, finally resting her sights on the girl in their group. "And who might this be?"

"I'm Tebriah-"

"-of Merdelain. Hero, wanderer, adventuress, and bard," she finished off. "I was quite hoping to meet you, actually. To see how the new generation of Neverwinter's heroes stand up with the old."

Though she was pleasant, Tebriah couldn't help but pick up on the evident note of challenge in there as well. Sharwyn wasn't malicious about it, but she did seem extraordinarily formidable.

"I'd like to see as well," she said at last. "But truthfully, I feel that all of you are far more impressive. I thought I knew what I was doing, but now I feel like an amateur."

The old group of friends regarded her with some surprise. Tebriah had been feeling this for quite a while, but it was the first time she'd put it in words to any one of them.

"A woman with that kind of candor is one I can definitely get along with," said the bard. Sharwyn spread herself languidly over a large cushion, reaching for the hookah on the table. "Very well then. If four heroes of Neverwinter are here all at once, I can't be so presumptuous as to assume they're all here to see a performance by little old me."

Once again it fell to Boddyknock to speak plainly, as he could be trusted to get through everything they knew with the least bias in his tone.

"To put things simply, Lesle has triggered a search for herself, and we're gathering the old companions together in order to find her."

Nothing registered on Sharwyn's face, but the hookah pipe fell out from between her fingers, and she didn't move to pick it back up again.

Taking advantage of her surprise, the party members recanted what they knew. Daelan saw Lesle recreate Aribeth's corpse. Tomi saw her flee the Castle with guards at her back, and everyone's items had been returned the morning she disappeared. Rather than confusion, Sharwyn's face became very still.

"So that's what that was about."

The gnome leaned forward, picking up faster than the others. "You saw her too, didn't you?"

"So what if I did?" she asked haughtily, and for a minute Tebriah saw a vision of the young bard that traveled together with the group. "She came to my rooms in Castle Never two nights before, wanting to play with anagrams."

"Ana-what?" Tomi asked.

"Anagrams," Tebriah explained. "They're words that can be recreated using the same letters. For example, _bat_ is an anagram of _tab_. They use the same letters, but make two separate words."

"Clever girl," Sharwyn winked at her. "Like I said, we spent the entire evening with them. Gods it was boring after the first few dozen, but she went on, irritating me on purpose. I can't imagine why she'd want me to remember that, though."

"Is that all?" asked Daelan. "She left nothing else? No instructions, no mementoes?"

"None." The bard shook her head. "But it does sound as though you have quite the mystery on your hands. It never sat right with me that she vanished the way she did, and now I know damned well why I didn't like Lord Nasher. To think he'd chase out the woman that saved his sorry nether regions from Luskan. Talk about gratitude."

"I think we can all agree we're pissed with Nasher as this point," said Tomi.

No one disagreed with him.

"So that leaves Linu," Tebriah sighed. "I wonder if we'll have enough to solve this mystery once we reach her."

"I hope you have adequate traveling accommodations." Everyone looked at Sharwyn. She inspected the ends of her hair. "I don't just travel with anyone."

"Travel… with…?" Tomi blinked. "You don't mean to say you're leaving all this?" He motioned to the ridiculous extravagance around them. "To come with us?"

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "I'm going for the story. What sort of bard would I be if I just let others lead exciting tales, when I could play a part as well? Besides, it'll do these fat swine some good to learn to miss me."

Daelan's laugh boomed through the room, causing everyone else to smile.

The old group was truly coming back together again, and judging from the looks on everyone's faces, it was something they've wanted for a very long time.

Only now that it was happening, it was too good to believe it.


	27. Devil's Advocate

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Devil's Advocate<br>**_

Sand pressed his fingers against his temple. It'd been nearly two months since he'd heard any word from Tebriah, and investigations on their end had led to a staggering halt.

This… Lesle Mere… she left a perfect dead end. Lord Nasher needn't have been so concerned about hiding her existence –she did most of the job for him.

Her quest log, while an entertaining read, shared precious little information on where she might have gone after all was said in done on the war with Luskan.

The wizard traced over her elongated script, so beautiful compared to the barely-legible scrawl of those he worked with. Every entry began the same.

Month.

Date.

Year.

Hour.

She was precise about everything she did; writing minute details that often turned out to be nothing, but sometimes played crucial roles. From this alone, Sand came to the conclusion that Lesle Mere had a habit of watching people, logging their motions, movements, habits, and appearance. Within seconds of reading she had given accurate assessments on some of Neverwinter's more notable figures. For a ranger, she had a brilliantly analytical mind, and he respected that immensely.

_Yes, Nasher has every reason to fear you_, he thought with a smirk. _You have a brain. That's practically high treason._

The only anomaly Sand could place was at the very end of the journal. There was a gap, spanning months, between the death of Morag, and the entry where Lesle had made it clear her intent to escape… on the grounds of Lord Nasher trying to rob her of something.

For a woman so precise in everything she did, to not write for such a long period and then leave a cryptic message… her world must have been on the verge of collapse.

Sand had little trouble envisioning what could bring such a strong woman to such a desperate point. He himself was at wits end once, barely able to string coherent thoughts together, let alone spells. He was so eager to prove himself, but his conscience had made a surprising appearance, and he fled from the Host Tower while believing that he was in too deep to truly escape.

Years would pass in the service of Neverwinter before he actually thought redemption was possible. He'd seldom gotten his hands dirty during those early days, but the things he had been witness to… the horrors that he knew were happening, just across the hall from his rooms…

He felt filthy just thinking about it, and he sympathized to the point of pain that this woman had gone through a similar experience, yet in Neverwinter, of all places…

His time in Luskan had proven in his heart, beyond a doubt, that being aware of wrongdoing and choosing to ignore it made one just as guilty as the ones committing the crime. He chose to serve Neverwinter not just so they would protect his sorry hide, but because Neverwinter had given him a chance to fight back against the nightmares he'd witnessed.

Only now, he wasn't out to combat the crimes of the Host Tower, but rather the man that stood in opposition to them, sworn to uphold justice in all its forms.

Nasher Alagondar had grievously wronged a woman that committed no crime, as far as Sand could see.

And Lord or pauper –justice would be done.

"I _swear_ it."


	28. Lesle's Secret

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lesle's Secret<br>**_

Another month had been lost to travel. Unlike the rhythmic sway of travel over sea, the Winding Water earned its name. Tebriah felt as though every turn would twist her stomach in a different knot. She spent well over half the trip at the mercy of the railing, too ill to punch Tomi in the face when he laughed at her.

Daelan didn't fare much better than she did, and he often joined her nearby. They would cast sympathetic glances before entering another fit at the approach of water rapids. How Vengaul managed to get them to their destination without nicking the sides of his boat was a mystery, but it was much desired that he could do the same with their stomachs.

The hills of Evereska stretched out before them, with its characteristic blue-leaf trees dotting its lush lawns.

They were many-pointed, with vivid azure hues undulating in the wind in the likeness of an overcast sky. After she was done kissing solid ground, Tebriah thought that this was a place where earth and sky was indeed as one; merely two sides of the same coin.

Sharwyn took point this time, her glorious red mane tied in an elaborate bun at the base of her neck.

"Unlike the rest of the oafs in our group, Linu and I actually made an effort to stay in touch," she explained to her. "She used to maintain the central temple to Sehanine, but a string of bad luck has left her on the outskirts of the city. And according to the description, she ought to live right… _there_."

Sharwyn pointed at a flat patch of earth, tickled by tiny streams of the Winding Water's tail. Small waterfalls cascaded into a pond surrounded by delicate frond shrubs and sturdy evergreens.

As they neared, Tebriah could make out the delicate nuances of the elven architecture, with billowy boughs overlaying one another to form a sturdy frame, and meticulously scalloped shingles on the roof.

There was a woman in one of the windows, wrestling with a flower box. Dirt smudged the better half of her face, and tight brown curls hung wildly down her back and shoulders.

At that moment a bee flew near her head, and she spoke kindly for it to go elsewhere.

It continued pestering her.

She attempted to swat it, leaned too far into the window pot, which then dislodged from its hinge. She shrieked as she fell from the ledge, grasping at a gutter, but this also tore from the side of the house.

They watched in awe as said gutter craned across the yard and over the waterfall. Daelan rushed forward just as the elven woman attempted to fling herself at the grass.

But then the bee from earlier made its triumphant reappearance.

She let go too soon, gloriously socking the half-orc in the face with her bum.

Sharwyn covered her mouth with a fist, valiantly fighting an onslaught of laughter. Tomi attempted to sneak away, but Boddyknock jerked him back by the collar of his shirt.

"We NEED her."

Tebriah's eyes widened –she'd never heard him so stern before. Tomi wilted, and the bard thought she heard him issue a strangled little cry.

"I'm kind of impressed," said Tebriah, earning the scornful glares of the men in the party.

"You get over it quick," the halfling scowled, marching forward like a man to his execution.

Sharwyn couldn't contain herself any longer, and as Linu was coming to terms with the familiar face her butt had knocked unconscious, she released a startled scream at the others approaching her.

A beaming smile, complete with joyous tears, graced her expression, which made her appear lovely and childish all at once. Tebriah stood aside and watched as Linu braced Tomi and Boddyknock in an ironclad hug, following with a gentle tap on her shoulder by Sharwyn. The cleric went pink in the face as the bard whispered about how blue the short men were getting before coming in for her own embrace from the elf.

Daelan looked like he was finally coming to. Linu moved as if to help him, but he immediately waved her away, causing everyone to burst into tears of laughter.

Again, Tebriah was stung by a pang of jealousy. She had taken for granted for bonds she'd made during her first adventure, and it surprised her to no end what she was willing to give to experience them one more time.

It was the family that she never had, and she feared she'd never have again.

If she went missing, would her surviving companions go to these lengths to find her again? Did anyone care that she was gone?

Loneliness enveloped her so completely that Tomi had to nudge her by the hand to get her attention.

"Oye, you alright, Tebriah?"

It touched her to see genuine concern on his face. She forced herself to smile.

"Yeah, Tomi."

"Ya sure?"

She nodded.

The rogue gave her a misgiving look. "Now that I think about it, you have that in common."

"What?"

"You and Les," he clarified. "Always trying to keep things together –forcing yourself to be strong when no one asked ya to be. I think that's why Ophala sent you on this quest in the first place."

She paused, surprised at this sudden revelation. "Lesle… and I are similar?"

"Not so much in the ways of looks, I guess," he admitted. "But I think you got it in your head that she was this… I dunno… leader. She was, don't get me wrong, but it took months for any of us to realize it." His expression turned gentler than she ever thought it could be. "She hung on the sidelines, talking to us whenever we were feeling a little lost, I guess. Got our hearts strung on her fingers before we knew it, and just quietly acted as our compass."

He looked at her suddenly, drawing out from his memories. "I get the feeling that your own friends have got pretty loud and proud personalities, eh? It'd explain why you're so clammed up. If you got less stuck in your own head and actually let yourself be vulnerable, I'm sure they'd rush in ta cover ya. You're a good lass, Tebriah," he grinned. "I just wish that Les gave us that chance."

Tebriah stood there, deeply moved. She knelt on the grass and kissed the halfling on the cheek in gratitude. He touched the side of his face in wonder, before breaking out into a victorious smile.

"C'mon. Get your buxom arse inside before Linu decides she wants to torch her lawn while she's at it."

They moved across the way, expecting a battlefield once they entered the cleric's home, but when Tomi and Tebriah opened their eyes they came to a starling realization: the inside of Linu's house was clean.

That fact threw everyone through a loop.

Daelan insisted that the elf sit on the couch in the living room, and stressed for her to remain as still as possible while he made some tea. Boddyknock supplied sweets from his bag of holding, and Tomi watched the scene like a hawk from the doorway.

Tebriah couldn't help but notice that Linu's ears had turned a fiery shade of red from her embarrassment. Clearly no one trusted her abilities as a host, and somehow she had turned into the honored guest in her own home.

When she spotted the new face she dropped her shoulders in relief, eager for a line of conversation that didn't stem from her catastrophic lack of grace.

"Why hello there dear. You must be the Tebriah I've heard so much about."

The bard pointed at herself, and saw Sharwyn raise a hand.

"The way Linu and I keep in touch is through an enchanted pair of journals –it allows us to communicate almost instantaneously."

"Wow, that's handy!"

Linu chuckled. "My late husband lives on through his ingenuity I suppose." She waited until the other members entered the room and made themselves comfortable. "And thanks to those journals, I already know why you're here."

"Lesle," said Boddyknock.

"Indeed." She looked at Tomi, and smiled in the most non-threatening way she could manage. "If you could, please take the envelope from the uppermost left hand drawer of my writing desk."

Tomi walked over to the indicated piece of furniture and jiggled the handle.

"Um… Linu, it's locked."

"I'm aware. I lost the key years ago."

"So you're asking me to…?"

She took a casual sip of her tea. "I know of no better halfling for the job."

Tomi appeared so moved that he looked as though he might cry. He wasted no time in whipping out his tools, unlocking the drawer in a fraction of a second. He returned with the envelope in his hands, and graciously offered it to Linu.

The elf took it from him and rested it on her lap.

"It's from Lesle, but before I read it to you, there's something you should know." She set her cup on the counter, suddenly serious. "...I saw her after she disappeared."

It was as if a tremor ran through everyone, and all noise was instantly deafened. The elf took a deep breath, prepared to continue the story.

"Lesle begged me not to say a word unless it was absolutely necessary. Since it's already gotten to the point where all of us are assembled, I believe it's a good time to share this story,"

"...she appeared approximately three months after her disappearance, soaked in rain, on my doorstep." Linu looked distressed now. "Naturally I was extremely worried. She was out cold from fever, so I immediately took her to the nearest couch –the one you're now sitting on," she motioned, "and started to get her out from her wet clothes."

A minute passed without another word.

Finally, Daelan rested his hand on her arm. "What happened, Linu?"

"Lesle… was pregnant."

Sharwyn couldn't contain a gasp. Tomi forgot to swallow half his tea, which now dribbled from his mouth onto his pants.

"I had to completely alter my way of care. I couldn't afford to expend dramatic healing like I did during our adventuring days, especially since it was still early in her pregnancy. When she finally came to, her first question was how her child was doing, and then she made two requests –the first being not to tell anyone about this unless it was an emergency, and the second, to stay in the poorest room I had available."

Linu closed her eyes, haunted by the memory.

"I had never seen her so devastated before, not even after what happened with Aribeth. She was so scared of being found that she cried almost every other hour." She gazed at the faces in the room. "Please believe me when I say that I wanted to call all of you to her side, but she refused, terrified that Lord Nasher would have one of you followed. Apparently even I was a risk, but she had run out of options –for what, I don't know."

She carefully opened the envelope then, and produced two sheets of paper.

"Barely a month after she arrived, I'd gone up to her room to call her down for breakfast, but she was gone. I found this on her bed with the pendant I'd given her during our adventuring –it was the only thing she left behind."

Linu cleared her throat and read the letter aloud:

_citrus is the scent of secrets_

_that ripen throughout time_

_and like a_ _Flame __they_ _bloom to life_

_imPrinting on your mind_

Everyone stared at one another.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tomi asked.

"I don't know."

"And the second paper?" asked Daelan.

"It's blank."

They passed it around, each companion reading and rereading through the poem. Tebriah took it in her hands last.

"F and P… they're the only letters capitalized."

"But we've come across no one with those initials," Sharwyn explained. "It makes no sense."

"What if they're not initials?" Tebriah queried. "Like a flame they bloom to life… imprinting… printing…" Her eyes bulged. "Give me the blank paper!"

Linu handed it to her, balking as it was snatched from her grasp. Tebriah pressed the tip of her nose against the parchment, breathing in deeply. Though faint, there was a lemon scent to the paper. She instantly went for the candlestick on the mantle, hovering the paper over the flame.

"What in blazes are you doing?" Tomi demanded. Sharwyn pulled him back.

"Wait just a moment."

She returned a minute later, this time to brown residue on the sheet. She flipped it so others could see that there was a message.

"I remember as a child we'd write secret messages using sour fruit juice. As long as you're careful about heating it up, it's crude invisible ink."

Boddyknock applauded rancorously. "Simply brilliant!" And Tebriah could suddenly see a resemblance between him and Grobnar. Gnomes all seemed to have an appreciation for simple, efficient techniques. This sorcerer was no exception.

"So what does _this_ letter say?" Daelan wondered.

"Hold on, it's divided into two separate entries. _Entry One: Two amulets. One pendant. Two rings. One sash. Scrying stone._"

"And Entry Two?"

"_Entry Two: Quest Log, page 128_."

Without a word of explanation, Boddyknock placed his ring and Grimgnaw's amulet on the table. Tomi followed with his ring. Sharwyn removed a belt from her pack and placed it down beside them. Daelan did the same with his necklace, and Linu unfastened a delicate clasp around her neck.

As soon as these items came together, the wood of the table began to smolder. They coughed at the smoke, wafting it away, and soon stared at a map.

Tebriah didn't recognize any of it.

But they did.

"It's Neverwinter!" Sharwyn gasped.

"From before the war with Luskan," Daelan affirmed.

It suddenly made sense why the structure was entirely different. Boddyknock scrambled through his belongings, pulling out an elongated quartz crystal. He handed it to Linu.

"Bless it, if you please."

She brought it to her lips and kissed its surface. Tebriah watched as the priestess drew it up by its silver cord and swung it in circles over the map scorched into her coffee table.

Finally, it landed with a loud _thud_.

Tomi slapped himself in the face. "I should've thought of it earlier."

"What is it?" Tebriah demanded, eager to get in on the information.

Boddyknock pointed at a general region. "This is Old Black Lake, and the scrying crystal landed on the Board Laid Bare –an inn that Lesle won through a series of underground gladiator fights."

"I've never heard of it."

"It was largely destroyed in the War," he sighed. "But… since Lesle gave us these hints then it's possible a fraction of it yet survived."

"It's underbelly," Daelan offered.

Tebriah pulled out her own map. While it was strictly breaking the law for any map of Neverwinter to be in existence, she'd created it back when she was new to the city, for fear of getting lost in its winding streets. Carefully, she overlaid one with the other, using landmarks to guide where it went.

"Let's see… this Board Laid Bare is now… it... this can't be."

Though it was slightly off, and it seemed that the Board Laid Bare veered off into the middle of a present-day street, it did coincide with one building Tebriah knew of.

_The Sunken Flagon._


	29. Ophala's Wrath

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ophala's Wrath<br>**_

In usual fashion, Boddyknock contacted Ophala through their magical means about the progress of their quest, but this time the Matron of the Moonstone Mask was truly at a loss. She made certain to pass the news to Eltoora, who then began penning a missive for Aarin by pigeon. The only amendment made was that he know nothing about Lesle's pregnancy –the Gods only knew how he'd react to that news.

As soon as this part of her duty was completed, Ophala wasted little time in getting to the Temple of Tyr. She paid little mind to the acolytes scrubbing the walls and floors, a job that had little to do with cleanliness and more with discipline, moving straight to the library where Reverend Judge Oleff Uskar was reviewing sermons for the upcoming week.

"You and I have words to trade."

He waned, instantly knowing the owner of that voice before he saw her face. Any time Ophala used that tone with a man meant that he had done something to cross her.

They'd had a mutually beneficial business partnership of sorts over the years, with their establishments so close together. He'd have healers produce high end wine purgatives and evaluate the health of Ophala's girls at a discounted rate, and she funneled in the faithful after recommending the Church to patrons that had particularly sinful evenings.

But today was not a business arrangement –that much he knew from the start.

"What words might they be?" he queried politely.

"Lesle Mere. With child. You told Lord Nasher, and I want to know why."

He blinked incredulously as the memories all came flooding back. It was as if a damn had broken in his mind, and years of hazy fog were replaced by vivid, painful recollection. Once again the enchantment that she and Eltoora had worked on became broken for another person, and the guilt on his face was all the evidence she needed.

"Ophala… what does any of this-?"

"-don't you dare change the topic on me," she snapped. "Why did you tell Lord Nasher? There is no reason for anyone outside of the couple to know of a child's conception."

Oleff knew that he wasn't getting out of this one, and his best hopes of discovering why Ophala wanted to know any of this was to tell her the truth.

"Because Lord Nasher had a vested interest in Lesle having a child. He'd purposefully arranged Aarin's schedule so he'd have the most time to spend with her while still performing his central duties to the city during its reconstruction."

"He used them as breeding cattle. Why?"

Oleff flinched at the description. "Because he believed that a child would make Lesle more likely to stay in Neverwinter, and take up a role as one of the Nine… in Aribeth's place."

Ophala gawked at him, with surprise turning into palpable disgust. "You were there, Oleff. You read, firsthand, Aribeth's sentence. I can't believe you'd have any part in forcing her to take her place."

"While… in poor taste," he admitted, "the city would have benefitted in the long term. As would Lesle's child –to be brought up in Castle Never with both parents, and with all the resources of highborn nobility-"

"Is that what Nasher told you?" she scoffed. "He was planning on turning her into a puppet. He didn't care about that child –it was his hostage, and you damn well know it. It's no wonder that she ran off when she did. You probably told him before she even heard the news."

Oleff's face burned red with shame. Ophala didn't know what else she could do to hide her disgust.

"Did you know that Lord Nasher told Aarin that Lesle had stolen from the crown? How can a mother steal her own child? He realized the instant she escaped from his grasp that he'd completely destroyed a man's chance at happiness, a woman's faith in him, and a child's life with its parents."

"Ophala I–"

"I only ask that if one of my girls is with child, you tell them first, and keep your _precious_ Lord out of it –even if he fathered it himself."


	30. Coming Together

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

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><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

****To the Readers**: _For this portion of the story I had to replay a portion of the original Neverwinter Nights campaign -the quest log has been written verbatim, as it appears on screen. (Though twice I had to make amendments for tense-usage) I did this to preserve the accuracy of the storyline, but just to be safe I'd like to give credit to the game's writers._******

* * *

><p><em><strong>Coming Together<br>**_

This time when his wards went off, Sand was prepared.

The wizard immediately left his tower, and Khelgar and Neeshka dropped what they were doing to follow him, assuming that if he was moving at such a brisk pace then it was likely they'd be needed.

Once they left the walls of the Keep, they staggered back at the brisk gust of wind.

Winter was coming early this year.

They pressed past the Keep's walls, and beyond the lands where farmers were reaping the last of their harvests, down the High Road.

Minutes later, figures appeared on the horizon. Just so they would see them, Sand shot a flare into the sky from the palm of his hand.

Six individuals stopped before him on their horses. He recognized the sorcerer that had spurned him months ago, and also the face of the eldritch knight he called his leader.

"Tebriah, I see you've made good on your quest thus far."

She smiled tiredly from beneath the mantle of her cloak. "And I see you've been digging into it."

He laughed through his nose, leading the way towards Crossroad Keep. "Did you really think we'd allow you to disappear half way across Faerun without knowing what you were up to? Your search for Lesle Mere has, quite ironically, led you right back where you started."

"Aye, lass," Khelgar agreed. "You ran around in one great big circle, but glad we are to have you back home at last."

"Did you find anything shiny?" Neeshka wondered. "You know, the nice gem-y valuable kind of stuff?"

The bard laughed against her better judgment, tossing Neeshka a souvenir from Athkatla –a golden fox she'd won off a game of cups.

"Not much," she offered regrettably, "But since it's from Amn it ought to be worth something."

The tiefling flicked her tail excitedly, hauling and hugging Tebriah off her horse all at once. "Ooh you're the best! I love you!"

Tebriah cringed at her tired limbs, but returned the embrace warmly. She'd missed this feeling far too much to ignore it.

"Come," Sand continued. "After we get you settled in, we need to speak about Miss Mere. A guest had arrived that I believe will be most… pertinent to your mission."

Hours passed between then and the actual meeting while the travel-worn group set aside their gear and sat down for a hearty dinner. The residents of the Keep filled the receiving room, craning for a view of their frequently missing Knight-Captain. Khelgar glady played the role of barricade, keeping them at a distance so she could eat, with promises that Tebriah would see to all of the Keep's activities come mid-winter.

As she heard this promise being made, she made a face at her stew, prompting Tomi to laugh through a mouthful of bread.

"Nobility isn't all it's cracked up to be, eh?"

She shot him a withering glare across the table. "Make me feel even guiltier why don't you? Adventuring and managing local lands are both full time positions, and so far I've been utter crap at the latter of them."

Daelan issued a throaty chuckle. "If that were true then your subjects wouldn't be so eager to inquire after your well-being. You are deeply respected, Tebriah. This is something men and women spend entire lifetimes striving to achieve –be proud of that accomplishment."

"I just…" She set down her fork. "I feel like whatever I do, it's not enough. I grew up in the Mere, where watching your own back was standard practice. You never knew when you'd get bogged down in the swamp, lost, run into a pack of wolves, beetles or lizardlings… this is going to sound terrible, but by comparison, people that live in or around cities are… well… pampered."

"Can't deny that," Sharwyn sighed. "Gods, I remember the first time I had to sleep on a bedroll just outside of Neverwinter. I threw such a fit about how hard the earth was. Makes me feel rather embarrassed, actually."

Tomi rolled his eyes. "Now her bedroll is made up of an extra layer of goose feathers. I'd say she didn't improve much."

The bard lifted a bread roll from the basket and flung it at the halfling, who dexterously caught it in his mouth and wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Tebriah, dear," said Linu, resting a gentle hand on her arm. "You are doing a wonderful job. The keep is well managed, and your people care for you. That you aren't here and things run this smoothly attest to how dearly you've loved."

She blushed into her collar.

Once they finished eating, Boddyknock coughed just loud enough for them to hear him.

"Sand has requested we meet him in the war room."

They stacked their plates in a pile, making their way across the grounds. Khelgar fended off the last of the villagers, following after them while closing ever set of doors they came across.

Finally they funneled into the war room, taking seats at the round table, with Neeshka and Khelgar at the door's entrance, watching for uninvited guests.

The moon elf cleared his throat and pulled a book from his sleeve.

He moved to the curtain, brushing it aside to reveal a tall man with a highly athletic physique. Everyone recognized him as being of Chult, but Lesle's former companions seemed to know him as something more.

"It has been many years, my friends," he greeted them. "It is good to see that fortune has smiled kindly upon your backs."

No one said anything, leaving him with the responsibility to explain why he was there.

"I have been working with Ophala to unravel what I could about Lesle's whereabouts, and regrettably, have come empty handed but for one piece of information: the location of the burial site of Lady Aribeth."

He proceeded to tell the story of how Lesle commissioned a tomb in Aribeth's childhood home of Thundertree, in the valley where the original village stood. He included the details of the tradition that had formed when she'd first set flowers before the site, that was now carried out by children every harvest season.

And lastly, Aarin Gend told them about how he had met her spirit, producing the ring she'd left with him.

"It is unclear to me if Aribeth's ring serves any purpose beyond giving the message that Lesle had been responsible for laying her to rest, but we agreed that it was better to take it now in case we didn't need it, than have to wait a year in the event we did."

He dropped the ring into the palm of Tebriah's hand, looking at her in such a way that felt as though he was scouring the depths of her soul.

"Please. Find her."

Sand coughed, drawing the room's attention. He slid a worn leather tome towards his leader.

"We had Neeshka do some investigating in Castle Never to collect whatever evidence she could on Lesle's disappearance. However, Lord Nasher beat her to the information, seconds before he decided to immolate the room." His eyes flicked towards the reclusive Spy Master. "Thankfully Aarin had something to give us –Lesle's quest log. Apart from an abrupt end after the defeat of the Old Ones, I'm sad to say that there's nothing I could glean off it."

They watched as Tebriah opened the book. She raised her eyes to her predecessors, Heroes of Neverwinter from the previous generation, and then began to read.

"_Page 128, The Village of Eternal Night…_

_The strange village of Charwood is buried deep within the forest that shares its name. It is shrouded by sheets of deep blue mist and seems to exist beneath a pall of endless night. At the entrance, a madman by the name of Quint greets newcomers with riddles before disappearing in a puff of blood-drenched smoke. Inside the village proper, the townsfolk seem to be lost in a haze of confusion and forgetfulness, repeating their words endlessly into the chill night air. The Mayor is no different, though he seems frightened by the prospect of anyone entering the foreboding Castle Jhareg which looms over the settlement's north edge._

_Inside the castle, one is met with three doors and but a single key. A note tied to the key speaks of Judgment and suggests that the three doors represent three different paths of Justice. Further in, one is met by a Guardian Spirit who claims that Lathander, god of the morning, has allowed this place to slip between the weave of times, pending the arrival of someone willing to stand in Judgment of the two brothers, Quint and Karlat Jhareg, who are said to have been involved in some horrendous, though unspoken crime. Karlat is said to be confined within the western tower while Quint, the madman at the gate, is supposedly confined within the eastern tower. Whoever wished to stand in Judgment had to learn what facts they could of the case, obtain the written oaths of these two brothers, and present them to the Guardian Spirit._

_This has all now come to pass, and I, the Judge, have arrived at a decision. Based on a third oath provided by the demon Belial, Lord of Fire, both of the brothers Jhareg have been declared innocent of the slaughter of the children of Charwood. Seeing no way to punish Belial without also punishing the other spirits trapped within the village, I've opted to take possession of the phylactery and forever stand guard over it. As a result, the citizens of Charwood, Belial included, will at last be set free and the village will be returned to the weave of time where it belongs._

_I pray that I have chosen wisely_."

She looked up at last, only to see the stunned silence of the people around her.

"This was while we were in the haunted forest," Boddyknock spoke quietly. "Lesle disappeared for a few hours, but she'd used days of supplies."

Sharwyn sighed. "She did tell of this, though, but she never gave any indication that there was truth to it. We thought it was a campfire story, designed to jump our already frazzled nerves."

Daelan shook his head.

Tomi frowned at the table. "Coulda gotten yourself killed, Les."

Sand pressed his hands over the documents in front of him, surveying the people in the room. "So, where will you go now?"

"The Sunken Flagon." Tebriah rose from her seat. "It's just over twenty miles to Neverwinter. We can make it before midnight if we head off now."

"But you just got here!" Khelgar protested.

She smiled faintly. "I can't give up, not when we're so close. Thank you for taking care of the Keep, everyone, but please keep it up for just a little while longer."

Neeshka pouted, but reached over to hug her farewell. Even Sand managed a handshake on her departure.

Tebriah raked her brain, trying to find a connection between the Flagon and the Board Laid Bare. Did the city planners really just pave over the destruction and start anew? Or did Duncan buy whatever was left standing for a cheaper rate?

All this time she'd been wishing she could meet Lesle, to know what went through her head, to find some sort of similarity that would make her feel like she had some kind of direction in her life.

Instinct screamed at her that this was their connection –the one thing they had in common.

The inns they once called home.


	31. Found At Last

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Found At Last<br>**_

Duncan awoke in the dark hours of early morning, shaken from his sleep. He grabbed the wrist of the person moving him, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light, and was stunned to find his niece in the room.

"_Tebriah_? Wha- is there trouble?"

"Uncle, how did you get the Sunken Flagon?"

He blinked through the crust in his eyes and pulled the covers back over his head. "Go to sleep."

"Uncle, _please_."

Duncan had never been able to say no to a woman that pleaded him for anything. He cursed himself under his breath and faced Tebriah once again.

"A gift," he said. "The foundation was good, and the kitchen was still standing at least."

"A gift from who?"

"From your mother, Tebriah," he yawned. "She bought it off the dock workers cheap, gave it to me as a present to get out of adventuring. It was a dump, but it turned out alright."

She didn't say anything, moving out the room so quickly that he began to wonder if he was still asleep. Duncan groaned, slinging his robe over his shoulders, following after her.

He blinked in astonishment as Tebriah and five other hooligans he didn't know began to pry the wooden boards off a portion of kitchen floor.

"Wha… what in the Nine Hells are you doing?"

"Finishing… my… quest!" she yelped as the last board came free. Duncan walked around, shivering at a sudden gust of wind at the opening.

"Oh Gods… don't tell me that's a crypt."

"Nah," said the halfling next to him. "It's just a gladiator pit."

"Oh, just a gladiator… _a gladiator pit!?_"

Tebriah went down first, sparking a torch. Duncan listened as she heaved her way against an ironclad door. It swung open with a piercing screech.

One by one, the adventurers filed through, burning webs that spanned the walls as well as the years. The basement was surprisingly cavernous, and Tebriah realized, upon seeing a leak, that portion of it was under the bay. It explained why no one had run into it during any other construction; it was so close to water that no one wanted to touch it in the first place.

Chains dangled motionlessly from the ceiling. They moved around them, as though in a cautious dance, until coming to the caged area at the heart of the room.

It was empty; save for a gong and a large disk that could be reached by small sets of stairs from either side.

Daelan was the one that walked up to it, and squeezed his eyes tightly at what he saw.

"What is it, Daelan?" Linu asked, moving beside him. She caught a look at what was in the bowl, and her normally cheerful expression drooped. "It's Lesle's gear."

They formed a line, with Daelan lifting the items, passing it to Linu, Sharwyn, Tomi, and Boddyknock in that order. Tebriah spaced each article evenly across the ground, getting a mental snapshot of this woman from the things she once wore.

Lesle owned a set of leather armor, whose pale green lining and delicate scale links pointed at elven origin. The length of her boots and breeches suggested that she was very tall, and a set of hair pins told her that she was a woman that preferred to keep her hair out of her line of sight when she worked.

There was little of interest… until she came across a crystal flask filled with cloudy purple smoke.

"Be careful with that," the gnome instructed. "I sense it's magical." He took it in his gloved hands, blowing the dust off its surface. "There's no mistaking it. This is the phylactery of Karlat Jhareg, and a container of souls is a very powerful thing."

They watched it for a time, with its swirling shapes and cloud of smoke, glowing faintly in the dark. Tebriah breathed deeply, determined to finish things once and for all.

"Boddyknock had the role of the impartial judge during all of this; he was the one with the least contact prior to her disappearance. Tomi watched her get chased out. Daelan aided her in spiriting Aribeth away. After building the tomb in Thundertree, she went north to Luskan, where she gave Gregor Armiste her spare stone of recall with the instruction: immersion,"

"Of course, he thought she was sick as she was vomiting, but thanks to what Linu has told us, it's safe to assume it was due to her pregnancy." Tebriah rubbed the space between her brow. "The note left behind in Evereska pointed to her journal, which we read, and now there's a connection between the phylactery and Lesle's whereabouts."

She scratched her scalp, trying to make sense of things.

"Tomi, how did one use a stone of recall?"

The halfling raked his memory for that answer. "It'd teleport us to the nearest temple of Tyr, if we needed supplies or a safe place to rest. On the brink of death, it'd pull us to the same place. We'd appear gasping out of the divining pool."

Her ears perked. "Divining pool?"

"Yes, dear," Linu picked up. "The divining pool was as its name implied; a place to gather information, and us, if our lives were in danger –a peculiar use to attribute to a divination receptacle. I can also think of several occasions when we'd left things behind that were later shown to be of import to our quests; with some help, they reappeared within the pool's waters."

"I can't say I've ever seen that kind of pool in the Temple of Tyr here in Neverwinter," Tebriah thought carefully.

"That is because it was in the Halls of Justice," Daelan offered.

Boddyknock held his chin tightly. "Which is now attached at the back of the Temple, and usually locked."

Tomi swung his picks around his little finger, bounding up the stairs; "I wouldn't be so sure about that, mate."

Wordlessly, the others chased after him.

They ran through the Docks and into the Merchant Quarter. Luck obscured the moon in the sky during the changing of guard shifts, and every member watched from behind the many shops as Tomi tumbled his way towards the Temple's walls.

The halfling brought his tools to the keyhole of the iron gate at the back of the building, and then proceeding to wet the hinges with the contents of a vial he'd produced from his pockets. The door swung open as silently as the wind, and one by one, the group hurried behind its safe barrier.

The halfling slid it shut behind them just as a patrol veered in their direction, ushering the group towards the Halls of Justice.

The companions came to a sudden stop once they were inside the building, craning their heads around the room. Tall pillars supported its vaulted roof, and a platform rested at the back end of the chamber, with what Tebriah could only assume to be was the divining pool they'd spoken of.

The space around them was so quiet that not even the dust dared to stir. When she looked at the eyes of the others, it was clear that they were in a different time, reliving the memories they had of this ageless place.

The bard plucked both the stone of recall and the phylactery from Boddyknock's hands, mulling things over.

If the stone was used to get to the temple, then the instruction for _immersion_ likely meant the soul container.

Tebriah gently set the phylactery atop the water, and released it. Everyone watched quietly as it slowly sank beneath the ripples, bubbling until it reached the bottom of the pool.

They stared at it for many long seconds, until the water began to change colors, taking on the container's milky purple hue. The crystal itself seemed to splinter apart, and the froth atop the water took on the form of a riddle.

_An enchantment was woven into my name, that all those who recalled would forget where it came._

_But I knew it was flawed, before it began_

_Depending on Who, but never on When_

They each took turns, reading it aloud, and to themselves. After a period of five minutes, the foam dispersed, forming a string of letters.

"To think it'd be this easy," Tomi smiled in relief. They watched him press against the frothy letters, moving them into their proper places. At last they watched as they came to spell two words.

_L-E-S-L-E M-E-R-E_

Only… nothing happened.

They waited five minutes, then ten, and so on, until an hour passed and the letters were staring back at them.

Tebriah watched as the group fell apart into a series of bickering, desperately retracing all of their information, trying to unravel what everything meant.

The bard took a long look at the letters.

"Anagrams," she murmured under her breath. It was the only piece of the puzzle they had yet to use. Little was known about Lesle except for the fact that she was from the Mere prior to coming to Neverwinter. At least a few years passed between her role as a watcher of the High Road and her coming to the city.

Things always seemed to happen where there was a gap in her life.

But what if… there wasn't a gap?

What if there was a different life there, which they didn't know about?

"Depending on Who… but never on When…" Tebriah pressed her fingers to the letters, rearranging them. When the last one fell into place, the water began to bubble violently. The stone of recall flashed bright and yellow, as if signaling an impending arrival. Everyone stopped what they were doing, stepping back to stare as a woman coughed the purple liquid from her lungs.

Tears sprang to everyone's eyes but Tebriah, who stood dumbfounded that it had worked.

"I knew you had to find me eventually," breathed the woman, gratefully accepting the cloak Linu doled out to her. "Truly… you've saved me."

Tomi released a child's yell of joy, clutching his old leader by her legs. Daelan caught her as she wobbled, struggling for balance. Boddyknock was perhaps the only one looking at the bard instead of the woman they'd spent the last quarter year struggling to find.

"How did you manage to solve the riddle?"

Everyone looked at her then, at the way Tebriah stared hard at the woman, unable to believe that she was actually there in front of her.

"The enchantment was flawed because it focused on making everyone forget about Lesle Mere," she explained. "But it didn't mean that she was known by that name for her entire life, or by very many people. According to Aarin Gend and Vengaul, she'd already experienced loss and adventuring first hand, prior to coming to Neverwinter. What made the least sense to me was why she'd badger anagrams into Sharwyn's head… until I saw the letters that spelled out her name."

The woman chuckled warmly, giving her a smile that melted her heart in more ways than Tebriah knew how to describe.

"I'm dreadfully curious how to managed to find that out."

Tebriah closed the place between them, pulling the cloak covering the naked woman down to her shoulders, revealing a long scar over her back that went straight through her heart.

"Because the anagram of _Lesle Mere_ is _Esmerelle_."


	32. Uneasy Paradise

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Uneasy Paradise<br>**_

It was a very round-about answer to the woman's question, and no one could explain why Tebriah was suddenly feeling distant. They made it their priority to exit the Halls of Justice, heading straight for the Sunken Flagon. Linu was kind enough to bind her feet in linen strips, and Daelan offered her a long scarf.

Together they shuffled a very cold Hero of Neverwinter back to the docks, who looked like she might faint at how different the city had become from her memory.

When they opened the door Duncan had already set the morning meal out on the bar counter. He turned around; ready to ask questions, but the instant he spotted the new addition he dropped his mug on the floor.

She grinned sheepishly. "I see you've fixed the place up quite nicely."

He was unable to say anything, but his instinct as an inn keep had him stammer out directions to the wash tubs, something that made her giggle into the scarf that Daelan had lent her. Linu and Sharwyn dragged her off, leaving the men to go straight for the food. Tebriah joined her Uncle on the floor, picking up shards of his broken cup.

"Tebriah… am I dreaming?"

"No… am I?"

They looked at each other with uneasy expressions, and eventually served themselves from what Duncan had prepared. The Uncle and niece sat far from the half-orc, halfling, and gnome, making it clear that they wanted to be alone. The men got the silent message, but it didn't stop them from shooting curious looks in their direction, which Tebriah ignored outright.

She didn't know her own mind at the moment; how could she trust herself to illuminate mysteries for others while her eyes were shut to the light of what she herself knew?

Duncan bit into his cooling toast, eating it before he finally had to ask, "Tebriah, I thought Esmerelle was dead?"

"As did I." Indeed, she'd been told that almost her entire life. "But there were similarities between her and Lesle Mere, the Hero of Neverwinter from the Luskan War."

"Wait." He waved his hand over the steam of his food. "Esmerelle is Lesle Mere?"

"Yes. She had two different adventuring careers. One name she used with you, Daeghun… and whoever else was involved." It stung her that she didn't even know who she'd traveled with. "And the others she met here." Tebriah motioned to the table, which had curiously gotten closer to theirs as she began to explain. She didn't mind them listening in on her conversation, as long as they kept their questions at bay.

"Then similarities just kept cropping up. Both of them were mysterious, kept to themselves, disappeared for days or weeks at a time. Periods of Lesle's life that seemed like they were missing made up what little I've ever heard about Esmerelle. And when she left Neverwinter, an enchantment was woven into Lesle's name, so that anyone that heard her story would forget about her in time, explaining why she was barely mentioned after the war with Luskan,"

"But for some reason, some people knew about her. When I asked Daeghun before we left he knew that she was a ranger at one point. It meant that she had an alias, a different identity people could remember her by. Finally what hit me was that the inn she'd won through a series of fights, The Board Laid Bare, was beneath the Flagon. And when you told me that my mother had given the Flagon's land to you, it was all but confirmed. The reason Esmerelle returned to the Mere was because it was the only real home she knew before she started adventuring. She was thick with child because she'd spent at least a third of her pregnancy putting precautions in place, for others to find her when she was ready, or in the event of an accident – like the battle at West Harbor."

"But why is she alive, lass? She died in that battle."

Tebriah set the stone of recall on the table. "She'd used this marker throughout her adventuring career to teleport to the nearest temple of Tyr. It could be used actively, if she needed supplies, for example, or automatically, in the event she was about to die. Her body was spirited away right after the others found her, while she was bleeding from the wound the shard left. It explains why they found her covering me, and it also explains why her body disappeared shortly thereafter."

Duncan raised his head, the color draining from his face as though he'd seen a phantom. They turned around to see Esmerelle standing there, her hair slung over her shoulder in a long braid.

It grew to an impressive length while her soul was trapped in the phylactery, hanging almost down to her knees. She wore a brown wool dress, its warm color in stark contrast to her fair, fair complexion.

Now that she was clean, rid of the purple froth of the divining pool, and standing close to Tebriah, it was clear that their faces shared the same structure, complete with high cheekbones and full, puffy lips. But it was their eyes, with their pale, dewy green, that silently confirmed everything Tebriah had explained.

"I shielded you, you said," she repeated, eyeing her with wonder. "Could you perhaps be… Tebriah?"

In response, the bard untied the strings at the front of her tunic, pulling it apart just far enough to reveal the scar between her breasts. Esmerelle covered one hand with her mouth, looking as though she was about to cry, the other gently tracing the old wound with her fingers.

The touch was cold, at first, but not unpleasant. Tebriah knew without a doubt in her mind that these were the hands of someone that wouldn't dream to do her harm.

"_Thank the Gods_ you're alive." Tears trickled down her cheeks. She reached out with trembling arms, still weak from the night's events, half-falling onto the bard. It was an awkward hug, to be sure, but filled with a very comforting sort of warmth. "Sweet, sweet Tebriah," she repeated. "My beautiful baby girl."

Tomi approached them cautiously, pointing between the two women.

"Uh… _that's _your kid, Les?"

She pulled back, smiling peacefully. "It most certainly is. Though the shape of her eyes are her father's, and," she chuckled, "her ears, naturally." She brushed her hair aside, revealing her half-elven status.

It was then that she turned her attention to Duncan, holding her arms wide open. "No love for me, Duncan?"

The inn keep stood to his full height, walked up, and threw his arms around her, squeezing as hard as he could. Esmerelle squeaked as he picked her up off the ground, swinging her in a complete circle before finally giving her space to breathe again.

She punched his shoulder as hard as she could, prompting him to burst out laughing.

"Gods above… it really is you."

She smiled. "It feels so nostalgic. This place. These faces," she said, motioning to the group of her old companions. "But quite a lot of time must have passed if the city's been completely rebuilt, and you," she looked at Tebriah, "are grown. How old are you now, Tebriah?"

"Twenty five."

"It's been an age indeed! A quarter of a century." She staggered backwards, leaning against the wall. "Which means that one day here, was three in the Phylactery."

Linu gasped silently. "You spent _seventy five_ years in there? Oh Lesle…"

"But you haven't aged a day!" Sharwyn argued. "How can that be?"

"A phylactery," she began, "is essentially an extremely dense astral pocket. You need to have one in order to become a lich, so in the event your body is destroyed, it can be reformed there. Mine was in a form of stasis. I felt no hunger; I had no need for sleep. I was just locked inside a veritable wizard's tower, and spent all of it looking for a means to contact someone."

"Ophala," said Daelan.

"Yes." She sighed heavily. "She was the only one I could think of who wouldn't have moved her residence, and had the insight and means to do something if I got hold of her. Since I was wearing Aribeth's necklace when I'd almost died, it was the only personal effect that could survive dimensional transport while proving that the message was from me."

"Then she contacted me," Boddyknock continued off. "I was instructed to get Tebriah for her reasoning skills, and we gathered the others."

"And here I am," she concluded. Esmerelle bowed her head deeply. "Truly, thank you. So many times I thought I'd be trapped there forever. I've never been so happy to be proved wrong."

Tomi's eyes watered. "You owe us all a drink, dammit!"

"Well I do have most of my gold in the basement…" she mused. "Care for one now?"

"The hell I'm going to make you pay for anything in my establishment," Duncan objected, heading straight for the tap. "All of you've earned a flask for finding her. Get along, take a seat now!"

Esmerelle beamed at her group of friends, feeling as though she'd been given an entirely new chance at life. She turned around; ready to get to know the daughter she thought she'd never see again…

… only to find that Tebriah was already gone.


	33. Irony Runs Deep

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Irony Runs Deep<br>**_

Exhaustion.

It seeped through her bones and bled into her soul like cheap paint. Tebriah sat in the park overlooking the Sword Coast, the gray overcast keeping the morning at bay. And as leaves tore from their branches, she attempted to tear through the melancholy that had nestled so comfortably on her shoulders, trying to sort her thoughts for what they were worth.

Lesle Mere was Esmerelle.

Esmerelle was her mother.

Visions of childhood, where she watched children of West Harbor getting called home from the fields at nightfall, filled her wearied mind. She recalled as they ran, one by one, into the arms of someone that would miss them terribly if they were gone for even five minutes more. Envy clutched her heart at those being yelled at by frantic parents that would go out and look for them, wondering if she could ever be loved that much.

Daeghun paid little to no mind if she was out late. He didn't call for her to come back home. Tebriah only noticed that after enough time had passed, he would track her down and watch from the shadows. When she eventually found her way back to the house he would often be sitting at the table, or tending the garden, and make a blasé comment about some chores that needed to be done.

In retrospect, Tebriah knew that he was being caring in his own peculiar way, but at the time she'd felt as though she was being made fun of. There were some children, like her, that were orphaned from the battle, but they at least had proper guardians. By comparison Daeghun clothed and fed her, but was otherwise a stranger living under the same roof, his heart so closely guarded that she turned to story and song, putting her grief into writing, and singing to the fields after dark.

When they were old enough, Bevil and Amie snuck from their respective homes. Tebriah didn't notice them until she was done singing, when they wrapped their arms around her and began to apologize for never noticing how wounded she truly was.

It was a horrid summer night, complete with sweltering heat and all matter of insects filling the air around them, but for the first time it felt as though someone had reached out and touched her heart. Tebriah cried like a child, screaming into their arms, with her kind friends spoiling her in a way her step-father never did.

Her current state of mind was much like that time. She was so hurt, and it never occurred to her why. Her mother was back, in the flesh, and Tebriah only just realized that nothing could make up for all the time lost.

She wasn't there when she tripped and scraped her knee on the bridge.

Or when Ward Mossfell pulled her hair constantly in the school house.

The first performance she'd made at the Harvest Fair for the Tourney of Talent.

Her first kiss, which was stolen by Bevil, as she ran straight into him while he pivoted during his militia training.

Or how he'd spat profusely once he'd realized what happened, and she felt robbed that he didn't at least feel grateful, even though that wasn't what she wanted either.

She hiccupped, feeling tears freezing against her reddened cheeks. She saved the woman that had given birth to her, but she could never regain the experience of that woman being her mother. What it came down to was that Tebriah was wounded, and a part of her never grew up past the child that watched everyone else going home from the fields at night.

No one was going to come out and find her.

That was when she felt the hand on her shoulder.

"I couldn't help but notice that you ran out on us back there."

She turned stiff as a statue, cursing the Gods for damning her moment of aloneness. Esmerelle released her quickly once she felt Tebriah's body tense, and instead sat a respectful distance off to the side, giving her privacy for her tears.

Once she wiped her face and sniffed, Tebriah tucked her knees beneath her chin. "I'm surprised you aren't catching up with them."

She heard her chuckle under her breath. "I don't make a habit of traveling dimensions. It's all a little overwhelming."

"I bet."

They stayed like that for a while longer, content to look at the gray water lapping against the docks. It bothered Tebriah, who expected questions or demands, but received nothing of the sort.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Do you see that tree over there?" Esmerelle pointed to their general left. "There was once a druid that tended it. His name was Nyatar."

"Elven?"

"Indeed –you have a fine sense for names." Tebriah could hear the smile in her voice. "He had a head of fiery red hair, highly unusual –I've never seen its like since. As a druid, he tended the trees in and around the city core, and that one in particular." She closed her eyes, letting the shore wind glide over her skin and through her freshly washed hair. "He knew I was a ranger from the start, though I never found out how he came to that conclusion. I helped settle a… let's call it a fiasco, at the city zoo… and in turn I was welcome in this grove whenever I wished."

Esmerelle stood up and wandered to the base of the tree, brushing her fingers across its sturdy surface. Tebriah watched as she laid her cheek flat against the bark, as though listening to its secrets.

"This was my quiet place, where I came to think, study, or simply to be alone for a few precious moments. My feet guided me here before I knew it, and here you were." Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly at their corners. "It seems seclusion runs in the family."

"I'm not alone because I choose to be."

Esmerelle flinched, and Tebriah looked a bit horrified –she didn't mean for it to come out as sharply as it did, but try as she might, an apology wouldn't come to her lips.

"I know."

Her eyes followed the back of the woman, which seemed so strong yet so lonely as she faced the sea.

"I heard the gist of it from Duncan. I didn't know that Shayla went after me; I'd spent the last seventy five years in that phylactery, believing you were in the best possible hands, only to find out that you'd been raised by Daeghun."

Tebriah snorted, to which Esmerelle coughed on her own laugh.

"I had never before in my entire life met a man so hopeless when it came to children. His response to a crying infant was to put it aside in a place he couldn't hear it. Shayla once told me she was glad she was barren, because if the Gods ever chose to bless her with a child, it'd be the death of its father."

Tebriah's shoulders shook with ill-repressed laughter. She could see it. Part of the reason she hardly ever cried was because Daeghun taught her early that it would solve nothing –mostly for the reason that he would stare at her in outright confusion before walking out the room.

"And I'd heard snippets from him while I was leaving. The battle at West Harbor all over again, and something about… oh what was it? Silver splinters?"

"Shards," she corrected. "Silver shards of the Sword of Gith."

She turned back over her shoulder, blinking as though she hadn't quite heard right. "Pardon? What in the _Nine Hells_ was a Githyanki silver sword doing on the Material Plane?"

When she swore Esmerelle sounded and looked so much like her Uncle Duncan that Tebriah came to the realization that this was where he got it from.

And since she asked, Tebriah decided to tell her the story, starting from the night of the Harvest Fair, all the way to where they'd been standing.

Esmerelle listened intently as the hours rolled into one another. The chilly weather that day was a boon that lent the park to themselves. She rolled her eyes when Tebriah told her about the antics of her companions, and laughed when she recounted her first time meeting Duncan. She gasped when she heard about what happened in Ember, and the sadness in her eyes was genuine when Tebriah told her how she'd spared Lorne Starling's life, only for Luskan to kill him later.

Tebriah shook as she came to the part where Shandra was murdered by the grandfather that barely knew her, and looked up to find that Esmerelle was crying for her. Little needed to be said as she finished her tale on how she'd prepared Crossroad Keep and fended off the King of Shadows, starting on her sudden arrival in Rasheman and her bout as a Spirit Eater.

When the stories came to their ultimate conclusion, the day had passed them by completely. Both women had now laughed and cried their fill for a week, and were stiff, frozen, and hungry on top of it.

"So young, and you've been through so much," she sighed. "If only I'd gotten to you faster that night, all this could have been avoided."

"Don't blame yourself." She was a little taken aback by that sentence, but Tebriah searched herself and found that she meant it. "I won't lie and tell you that I've led an easy life, but I've also seen and done things that most people couldn't come up with in their wildest dreams. At times it was terrifying, and I've brushed shoulders with death enough times that we're old friends now, but I've also met some truly amazing people… and I even call the best of them my friends." Her eyes softened as she thought of the group awaiting them at the inn; individuals that left their settled lives of comfort and wealth for the sake of a woman from their past. "You understand that probably better than anyone I know."

Esmerelle's smile was slow in response. She didn't quite know how to react to Tebriah's sudden openness, but there was no denying that she was glad for it.

"Actually… do you mind if I asked you a question?"

"Not in the least. What would you like to know, Tebriah?"

"What happened between you and Lord Nasher that made you hate him so much?"

She froze solid, looking at the ground, then back at the bard's face. "I don't hate him," she said finally. "I understand him, and the reasons why he does things, but what it came down to was that men are flawed. And if men make laws then laws, by default, are flawed as well. And if a man devotes himself to that law, he will make mistakes. They are small and easily overlooked on a day to day basis, certainly, but when events that can affect lives, affect history come to the front, it is when a man must look first at a law and decide if it is just, and then he may judge others with it."

"It has something do to with Aribeth, doesn't it?"

"Yes." Esmerelle paused, searching for a way to explain. "Aribeth met me when I was just a girl, Tebriah. I warned her patrol of an impending orc ambush, and helped fight from a distance. When she'd asked me my name I sneezed from the dust in the air. It came out as _Esme_, but she misheard it as _Lesle_. And at the time I was so flustered by her beauty that I'd let it go. This was how Lesle of Merdelain was created,"

"Shortly thereafter I met a very peculiar priestess of Arvoreen, who was looking for a guide to a nearby holy site. This turned out to be Shayla." She laughed suddenly, unable to help herself. "I mistook her for a very short elf at first, but later discovered she was a giant of a halfling woman. Whenever we stopped at a tavern she'd drink me under the table, lamenting over how no proper halfling would want her on account of their ego being larger than their manhood,"

"We were content for a time, until her parish sent her out on increasingly difficult tasks, either to eradicate undead or track down some obscure holy relic. We met Daeghun back when he had disagreements with his party on account of his old leader; it wasn't that difficult to persuade him to join. Shayla teased him relentlessly, and it was months before I realized that the reason he put up with it was because he was quite taken with her."

"And then he found out she was actually a halfling," Tebriah surmised, grinning widely. Esmerelle began to laugh so hard that she had to grip her stomach with one hand.

"_Gods above!_ She almost smited him on the spot. He backed towards the nearest wall insisting that it wasn't meant as an insult. And right as she was about to bash his face in with her shield, he picked her up by her collar and planted a kiss full on her lips. It was the sloppiest thing I ever did see."

Tebriah blanched. "I… I can't believe he had it in him."

"Trust me, by the look on his face, neither did he." Esmerelle shook her head at the memory. "I distinctly remember heading towards the inn and resting out the entire second floor for them as a joke. Shayla dragged him off with his face red as a harvest beet. I was half tempted to call a priest to do their vows the next morning, but my better judgment told me that was taking it a little far,"

"We were a happy little family, and some faces came and went in our group. Some died. Thanks to Shayla, Daeghun had learned to open himself to others, so their losses hit the two of them that much harder. As for myself… I was a bit more distant. I wouldn't say that I wasn't saddened, but I'd also raised myself in the woods. Relations in themselves were a novelty to me that I didn't quite understand."

"But I digress." She waved her hand on her story. "You asked me what problem I had with Nasher, and yes, it came down to Aribeth. I'd forgotten about her while I was traveling as Esmerelle, and she didn't come to mind again until I passed through Conyberry and heard a call for heroes; Lesle Mere was asked for in particular. Shayla and Daeghun were ready to start a new chapter in their lives in West Harbor, and I felt that it wasn't my place to intrude on that… I also felt that I had more to do, to prove myself worthy and catch up to them, if that makes any sense."

Tebriah could hardly believe that those words came out of this woman's mouth. She'd said almost the exact same thing to Duncan before she set out on this journey, determined for it to be her final adventure. Somehow or other, she and Esmerelle were more alike than she ever thought possible.

"I went to Neverwinter, and was instantly struck by the size of the place, and the people… and how bad it was." Her eyes grew dark. "The opening scene was a riot as so many people pressed their way out of the city. Some adventurers ready to answer the call for aid simply turned away at the entrance. So I entered this place, and within seconds I was swept into the courtyard of the academy, where Aribeth had instructed guards as to how I looked like, and rather than go through the skill inspection, I was ushered straight into the classes,"

"Shayla had taught me much of what I knew of the civilized world outside the woods, though it wasn't much. At the time I thought the library in Professor Jeroo's office was the grandest on the Sword Coast. When drill instructor Harben wasn't deafening me, I spent my free time with the books. Perhaps two months passed this way until the attack on the Academy, and this was when my involvement with Aribeth became paramount,"

"She gave me my assignments and helped me prioritize them. She healed me when I was wounded, looked after me when I was sick. She was the mother and sister that I never had, and I loved her in such an unconditional way that I knew she was special, even among the few I called my friends. It tore me apart when her lover was sentenced to death, and I tried to cover her eyes so she couldn't see him hang. Guards kept me at bay, telling me to know my place, and that it was her duty, but all I saw was a woman getting ripped apart from the inside."

"I guess it started from there," she sighed. "Lord Nasher didn't so much as offer an apology, and Aribeth accepted it. While we hunted for the people responsible for the plague she just wasted away under the increased pressure and the doubt clouding her mind. She was still there for me, and I for her, but it was a distraction at best, and not a real solution to the problem,"

"When she turned against the city, it felt as though the world had been ripped out from beneath my feet. The woman I admired, befriended, loved in such a beautiful way, was now one I was obligated to destroy. It felt like a miracle when I'd managed to avoid killing her, even convincing her to come back to us. The war ended with a bitter taste in my mouth, but at least I had some hope,"

"And then… after weeks on putting her trial on hold, the Lord Nasher told me that the only way to appease the people was with her execution. I argued that Fenthick's death was for the very same reason, and to look at what it had caused. He heard none of it. And to show my _devotion_ to the city, he made me her executioner."

Tebriah gasped.

"I spent hours in that cell with her, Tebriah, begging, screaming, and pleading every way I knew how for her to run away and live, but she insisted that even if her feet allowed it, her conscience would not. When the day came I watched as the people that once praised her name threw stones and shit in her direction. The entire city, what was left of it, must have been there. And in the end… I couldn't do it,"

"Naturally, people were confused, and some called me a traitor myself. Aribeth saw this, and in order to protect me from their wrath she threw herself onto the blade and made it look as though I'd done it. Something broke in me at that moment, and after she slid off the end of my sword, amid the cheering, I pointed it at Lord Nasher,"

"Before I could say or do anything, guards rushed at me and took the weapon, covered my mouth and dragged me into the Castle. I was so destroyed that all I could think about was hurting him the same way he hurt those that devoted their lives to him –some way to beat some sense in his balding head that people were more than toys that he could throw away because he was afraid of damaging his precious reputation. I spat on him when he asked me to take her place in the Neverwinter Nine, and in retrospect, it's a wonder he didn't do more beyond placing me under house arrest,"

"And then I discovered I was pregnant." She looked at Tebriah. "And suddenly, I was afraid of death again; afraid of it for you. When I found out that it was part of scheme he laid to keep my under control and in the city, I planned for my escape. And all those hours under Shayla and Aribeth, amid books and information I'd found in my days of adventuring, came to good use. Within days I was ready, and even then I just barely managed to run away,"

"And yet the irony runs so thick… that the daughter I escaped to save from Neverwinter became exactly what Lord Nasher had wanted; a hero in the service of the city, and one of his Nine –the position I'd cursed to the Nine Hells all those years ago. It almost makes me wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed."


	34. What Makes a Hero

** The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>What Makes a Hero<br>**_

They returned to the Flagon with Tebriah looking just a bit sheepish.

She had no idea that Esmerelle had suffered that kind of loss, and it endeared her to the woman, almost as much as it made her ashamed of herself. It'd been arrogant in the extreme to think that she was the only one hurt by her absence.

And as if sensing that embarrassment, Esmerelle reached over and brushed a strand of hair from her ear, smiling with reassurance.

"Shall we go in?"

The bard nodded in relief.

Linu and Daelan were nowhere to be seen, though Sharwyn was now playing for the evening crowd, with Duncan sending not-so-secret admiring looks in her direction. Thanks to the minstrel the Sunken Flagon was filled to the brim with customers, many lining the walls leading to the door. Esmerelle visibly stiffened, and Tebriah realized that she wasn't much for overly public spaces.

And before Duncan had the chance to meet them, Tebriah watched her mother head towards a man in blue. It was already too late once she recognized the owner of the sandy head of hair.

"_Pavel?"_

Nevalle whipped around so quickly that he elbowed his drink onto the floor. Tebriah was glad that Sharwyn was so captivating, or else it would have quickly turned into a big scene.

"_Lesle?_" The Neverwinter Nine turned flaming pink in the ears. "By the Gods, is that really you?"

"Um…" Tebriah cut in. "I missed something. _Pavel?_"

Esmerelle looked between him, his tunic, and her daughter. "You changed your name? I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

"No, no, you may call me anything you like," he answered, flustered.

"We were classmates once, at the Neverwinter Academy," she explained. "Although it was only for a day…"

"You left an impression I'd never forget," he insisted. "I… I heard you'd been found, so I had to see, but I didn't actually think that…" He gave her a look of admiration. "I'm glad you got out of the castle in time."

"So you _were_ the guard. I owe you a debt I could never repay. Actually," she roped one arm around Tebriah's neck. "We both do."

"Pardon?"

"The reason I ran, Pavel," she nodded at the girl. "I didn't want my daughter growing up in a war zone."

Tebriah's face flushed at being referred to as a daughter. When Daeghun did it he made sure to emphasize their unrelated status. And when Duncan called her a niece it was clear that it was a bond through spirit. There was something different and special, and just a little uncomfortable, when Esmerelle said it –because for good or ill, it was true.

Nevalle looked between them, the truth slowly sinking in. The man was far from stupid, particularly if he was a Neverwinter Nine, so he put the pieces together in little time after the initial shock.

"What a small world this is at times."

"Indeed." Esmerelle released her daughter, casting a tiny smile. "I'll need some time to settle some things, Tebriah. I should be back late this evening."

"But it's already night out."

"Oh, certain shops are open, if you know where to look."

Nevalle gave her a withering glance. "You'd get lost in a second."

"Bold words from a boy that cowered in a library from a handful of goblins." She arched her brow at him, recalling their ill-fated partnership to get out of the Academy alive during the attack. Nevalle ran a hand down his face. Tebriah couldn't follow it, of course, so she excused herself to her room, content in knowing that it had been a very long day.

Nevalle watched Esmerelle weave through the crowd, pausing to whisper something to Duncan before heading to the kitchen. She appeared several minutes later, wearing a pair of boots, a utility belt, heavy cloak, and a bag of coin. She took Nevalle by the hand and escorted him outside.

"Lesle… what are you up to?"

"Some light shopping." She squinted at the streets, swearing at the new layout. "Where in the nine hells is the city core?"

"For a ranger you're not that good at tracking."

"Do you see any moss, dirt or guano I can inspect?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Merchants have ever been better than any ranger or druid when it comes to city. As nature is a guide to the earth, so are streets the veins to a body of coin."

"Eloquently put."

"Thank you." She jolted at the sound of metal hitting in the distance. Nevalle watched her pull out a rapier that had been tucked in her cloak. Esmerelle seemed baffled that the noise was merely someone emptying a chamber pot from their window, and her weapon sagged at her side.

"The war is over, Lesle," he said gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore. These are peaceful streets; I've made certain of it."

She huffed, and in her eyes he saw the same shade of cynicism that had fascinated him as a boy.

"You've come a long way."

"And you're still fighting the same battle after all these years."

"It's hard to stop when it's the only thing you know." She looked at her hands. Her fingers were long and lovely, but as soon as she turned them over there were dozens of hairline scars and hard, smooth calluses. "In my experience, peace is the most transient thing in the world. I wanted Tebriah to live in it, but she followed in my footsteps."

"She's a Hero."

"So am I." She looked so sadly that he felt a splinter in his heart. "She has many titles. Kalach-Cha, Knight-Captain, Spirit Eater, and each had a price; her home, her freedom, her security. Heroes are born when you sacrifice what you are for someone or something else. It's a hard life that ultimately leaves you feeling the emptiness keener than anyone else."

He waited for her to finish speaking with a merchant closing shop, grabbing bread for herself before he commented,

"Is that what you think? Lesle… you made a difference. Every single person in this city owes you their lives."

"Same for Aribeth, once, and look what happened." She bit into her loaf. "In love or hatred, a mob is a mob –what do they care so long as they have someone to look to?"

"Aribeth betrayed the people –you didn't."

"Betrayed?" She swallowed the food in her mouth. "Fine, I'll agree with you. Yes, Aribeth betrayed Neverwinter, but Neverwinter betrayed her first. They rewarded years of loyal service and unconditional love by carving her heart out with the death of the man she loved, whose only crime was trusting that snake-oil salesman of a Helmite –_for_ Neverwinter, mind you."

"Are you trying to excuse her actions?"

"Am I saying what she did was right?" she countered. "No. It was stupid, and childish, but there are other ways to serve justice without spilling blood on the ground. And what happened was _not_ justice –not even close."

At this, he couldn't argue. Nevalle continued to escort Esmerelle through the merchant quarter as she caught those few shop keepers just as they were putting away the last of their goods, buying some rope, a pick, some potions…

"Lesle, I know this will never suffice, but… I'm sorry, for what Lord Nasher had put you through. I was there at the execution, and I saw you get carried off."

Esmerelle ignored him, treading into the Moonstone Mask. She looked around the stone floor and exquisite tapestries, and let out a low whistle.

"Someone's art investments paid off."

"That voice…" A raven-haired woman appeared from the stairwell. "_Lesle!_"

It took a few seconds, but it eventually registered that this was Ophala. Esmerelle wondered when she'd become so waif-like… and her hair so… black…

"I can't get over the fact that it's been over twenty years."

"What brings you here? How? When?" The woman shook her head and took her by the arm. "You, and you, Nevalle, come upstairs. I want to hear the whole story."

Esmerelle's stomach grumbled loudly, causing them to stop dead in their tracks.

"Uhm… I don't mind, but apart from some bread just now, I haven't eaten anything in about twenty five years so…"

Ophala nodded briskly, motioning for one of the Mask's employees to bring about a large tray of food.

"Of course, dear. Have as much as you like –you've earned it."


	35. Sweet Revenge

**The Search for Lesle Mere**

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: This a fan-fiction based on the Neverwinter Nights game franchise; it is in no way, shape, or form, to be considered cannon.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sweet Revenge<strong>_

Ophala reclined in her chair, sorting the story in her head. Nevalle, likewise, was silent. One person at a time, Esmerelle knew that she'd have to tell them her story, but that didn't mean it made things easier. Secrecy was her security blanket, and the more she revealed, the more naked she felt.

"I simply have one question." They looked at her, staring at the wine in her goblet. "Why did you send Tebriah to find me?"

"Because her heart was akin to your own." Ophala snorted, "Though I admit, her being your daughter was not something I had anticipated. It came to me as quite a shock."

"That I would've liked to see."

"Oh I'm sure." The matron of the Moonstone Mask shook her head. "Tebriah was a very inquisitive girl. She could pry into matters without being overbearing, a valuable skill that you had in common. And she shared a loving bond with her friends that reminded me of you. Knowing your group of companions, I realized that the only way they'd stay reasonably behaved was with a relative stranger in their midst. Tebriah was the ideal option."

"Keen as ever."

Ophala tipped her head in an elegant little bow. "You've been through a great deal, Lesle. You were… what? Nineteen, when you ran?"

"Twenty," she corrected her. "I was twenty-one once I reached West Harbor, and was twenty-two for several days before the attack."

"Tebriah was just over a year old then?"

"Yes."

"And you spent seventy five years in that astral pocket…" Ophala sighed. "You haven't aged a day. It's difficult to imagine you being ninety seven years old –my senior, even."

It was true. Try as they might, neither Nevalle, nor Ophala could see beyond a young half-elf. At the very most, in her tired state, she could pass for someone in her mid-twenties, but that was all. Both looked upon themselves and realized that while their bodies had aged, her eyes were a hundred times older. She dealt with nothing but solitude for three quarters of a century, and was suddenly thrust back into a world that was vaguely familiar at best.

All things considered, Esmerelle was taking the transition extraordinarily well.

"I believe that begs the question as to what you intend to do now?" said the woman, eyeing her old friend. "Will you sink back into a quiet life?"

"I'm tired of keeping secrets… tired and yet too much of a coward to cast them off." She wore a very self-deprecating smile. "Pavel… I mean _Nevalle_, please don't tell Lord Nasher. I'll settle that matter another time."

Upon mentioning the Lord of Neverwinter he cast a frantic look at the clock on the wall, swearing under his breath.

"Understood, and I really need to run. I forgot I had to go pick up a parcel from the docks."

Ophala waved him to the door; he bowed perfectly even as he sounded frazzled, prompting Esmerelle to snort.

"He's much more elegant than I remember."

"And you are much wiser –yet more accepting of your circumstances than I'd have thought, given your experience."

"You'll find that when you have enough time to yourself, things like grudges just serve to wake you up in the morning." She yawned loudly into the palm of her hand. "My days were spent reading books. That realm was literally a giant tower, filled with them. There was food, too, though I never got hungry, and a bed."

"That seems… pointless."

"I thought so too," she admitted. "But after I spent a few weeks straight, trying to find a way out on my own, I came to realize that these things, while unneeded, were familiar. I stuck to the habits because they reminded me of my own mortality. Of course, I could have killed myself ages ago. I tried, wondering if the stone of recall would summon me to the Temple of Tyr, actually, but quickly realized that things could enter the phylactery, but unless I was a lich, I had to go to great lengths to cast them out."

"It sounds terrible."

"It was at first." Esmerelle looked out the window, where the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. "Eventually my days just blended together. It was dark all the time. There weren't stars or moons… just fog, at best. If I wasn't researching then I was learning a skill, and if I wasn't doing that, then chances were I was napping. It was just one long dream as far as I was concerned."

"And how do you feel now?" she asked.

"Grungy." Esmerelle picked up the end of her long braid. "Do you see how ridiculous this is?" Thank the Gods I had the sense to trim my nails, at least. They were the only parts of me that grew."

Ophala chuckled. She stood up, took her by the arm, and led her to the vanity table across the room. She ran her fingers through Esmerelle's hair and then paused at the greasy texture. Upon looking at her fingers, she saw the ashy blonde pigment smudged on her skin.

"If your hair and nails continued growing…" She grabbed a linen towel and rubbed it on her head. More and more of the pigment rubbed off. "It went gray years ago, and you covered it in paste."

"Oil based…" She bit back a yelp of pain as Ophala scraped the concoction from her strands. "So it wouldn't come off in water. Ouch!"

"Bear with it." The woman continued for a full twenty minutes before the majority of the goop was out from her hair, revealing a long mane of silver and gray. "It's actually rather lovely."

"And it looks really unnatural."

She laughed under her breath. "We'll see if we can't fix that." She reached for a pair of scissors, snipping off the better half of her locks. "How does that feel?"

"Like a weight just dropped from my shoulders."

"After I finish with this I'll see that you get some rest tonight –I'll send a runner to the Sunken Flagon to inform the others you'll be back later in the day."

"Sleep sounds fabulous, actually."

"Hair, bath, _then_ bed –I won't have you ruining these sheets, Lesle. I do have a business to run."

"Wow." She considered the lavishness of the place. "So this is one really high class whore house, huh?"

She spotted Ophala's displeased expression in the mirror, clearly telling her that she ought to know better by now. Esmerelle grinned sheepishly, reminding herself to never piss off a woman with a pair of scissors precariously close to her neck.

She spent an hour at the mercy of the Mask matron, watching with a bit of dismay at the clumps of hair that fell to the floor. With a pungent solution and rag, Ophala also removed the colored paste from the strands, leaving them in feathery silvered waves against her shoulders. One would think that gray hair would age Esmerelle, but had the bizarre effect of making her appear strikingly youthful by contrast.

Still, it wasn't a look she frequented, so the adventuress grimaced at the final product.

"You look lovely."

"I look like a wet duckling."

"Give it time."

The ranger shot her a withering look. Time was the only thing she had in abundance, and it had only served to grind her nerves.

Ophala toweled it dry, running her fingers through the soft results. She'd done this for Lesle before, only it was to disguise herself as one of the Mask girls. She was out to rope a confession from Gilles, a sour man that'd loitered far too long in her establishment. With proof that he had murdered and robbed a Tyrran priest, he'd been promptly arrested and sentenced.

"What's with the smile?"

The woman blinked, catching her reflection in the mirror. Lesle was grinning broadly.

"Nostalgia is a sign of old age."

The adventurer snorted, "You're telling me."

"But… in all seriousness, what will you do now?"

The heroine's face sagged through the reflection. Ophala could see that the thought was at the forefront of everything since she'd returned.

"In that Tower…" she began. "For all those years I thought, if I ever did get out, I'd teach Lord Nasher a lesson in loyalty he'd never forget. Tebriah's position as a Nine complicates things."

"I can only imagine."

"With me around it wouldn't take much to discover our connection; I don't want my daughter suffering the consequences of my actions."

"Especially considering that they're high treason."

Esmerelle grimaced –she could think of a long list of offenses that fit that description. The only reason Lord Nasher let them slide was because she was Neverwinter's best chance of winning the War with Luskan. Now that it was over, she knew nothing would hold him back from sentencing her to death.

"So I have two choices; erase my work completely while I take him down a notch, or convince Tebriah to live a quiet life."

"Why don't _you_ live a quiet life?"

"Ophala…" She turned around, facing the woman. "You've been around my daughter longer than I have –you know she didn't choose this life. She should've been happily living in peace in West Harbor, or some other village in the Mere."

"You don't want your child to aspire to greatness?"

"I don't want her to aspire to an early death sentence." She crossed her arms. "I've walked down this road long enough to know it's not half of what it's cracked up to be. The fame comes at the price of tempting Death and Fate, and once you have it others want to take advantage of your name for their own purposes. Adventuring is a target on the back, and the better you become, the bigger it gets."

"She has friends to protect her."

Esmerelle rolled her eyes. "No one should let their life depend on others if they can help it –regardless of how competent or loyal those others may be."

"Coming from a woman whose own friends saved her from an eternity of reading books."

She held up her hands. "Point taken. I'm grateful for my friends –truly, I am."

Ophala leaned against the wall, smirking. "This sounds less and less like a mother concerned over her child's welfare, and more like a vengeful hero looking for ways to get an obstacle out of her way."

Esmerelle had the decency to blush.

"Lesle, haven't you ever considered letting bygones be bygones? You and Nasher have both made mistakes, some more grievous than others, but is it really worth decades of agonizing over who cast that first stone? Why don't you take this time to know your daughter and her connections? Perhaps you can share your wisdom with her, so instead of impeding her path you'll act as her guide?"

"You think that hasn't crossed my mind?" she asked back. "I can't, Ophala. I _must_ get back at Lord Nasher. I won't kill him –Neverwinter would fall to chaos, and I have no quarrel with the people. I'll haunt him a bit, in a manner of speaking; remind him that he can't escape judgment."

"So nothing but vengeance will do?"

"Correct."

Ophala sighed.

As a Nine herself, she was sworn in the service to Neverwinter, but she also knew that Lesle was a woman of her word. If she said she wouldn't kill Lord Nasher, then this was enough for her.

"I'll condone it," she agreed finally. "But I can't help you with whatever you're plotting."

"Not even guard patrols?"

"Especially not those."

Esmerelle pouted. "How about cosmetics? I need a good disguise."

"Now _those_ I can help with."


End file.
